


Finally I'll Be Yours

by orphan_account



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Chronic Illness, Deaf Character, F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Happy Ending, M/M, Slow Burn, YouTuber BItty, Youtuber AU, cystic fibrosis, hospital stays, nhl jack, partial texting fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-20
Updated: 2016-11-13
Packaged: 2018-08-23 16:09:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 33,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8333965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: When Jack uses a youtube tutorial to make cupcakes, he doesn't expect his entire life to be turned upside down by the charismatic Eric Bittle--YouTuber extraordinaire.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Okay I got requests for a youtuber AU for zimbits and I'm not a huge fan of writing these, but I thought I could use it to add in another request I got for Deaf Bitty. Also I have a lot of personal experience with cystic fibrosis and it's not a topic I write a lot about having lost the person I was dating to it years ago. But I'm going to consider this a little bit of self-indulgence and give Bitty and Jack the happy ending they deserve, so there will not be character death in this fic.
> 
> Caveats- I speak British Sign which is like completely different to American Sign so any sign descriptions have come from online dictionaries (if they aren't accurate, I apologise). Two, I'm not writing in sign grammar, but Bitty uses sign language, not signed English. I just wanted to be clear about that.
> 
> I probably shouldn't be starting another WIP but I got my book sorted so I have a few weeks of free time to get some fanfic done. So I expect updates to be pretty regular (and my other WIP to be back on the regular update schedule.) I'll be posting chapters both here and on tumblr.

“Zimmboni! You are being late for practise! What is taking this long?”

Jack looked up from the screen of his laptop and sighed. “I’m just trying to find that…that stupid recipe…” He continued to scroll through the history, but he couldn’t remember the name of the site. “I should have bookmarked it.”

A large body thwumped to a seat next to him, and an overlarge hand dropped on his shoulder. “As Captain I say get on ice. Mean captain now, nice captain later. I help you find, okay?”

Jack rolled his eyes, nudging Tater. “Yeah, fine.” He snapped the laptop shut and rose, grabbing his stick which was leant against the bench. He ignored Tater’s blabbering on about how he didn’t mean to be a hard-ass and how they could look up cupcake recipes later if Jack really wanted.

It was a stupid idea, anyway, but Jack wanted to do something nice for once, and it made him feel a little more human to do something like bake a damn cupcake. Lardo had told him about the site, said it was impossible to fail if he followed the directions, and if there was one thing Jack Zimmermann was decent at, it was following directions.

“Come on, get hat trick during practise, I let you leave ten minutes early,” Tater said, hip-checking him onto the ice.

Jack turned and grinned. “Deal.”

Jack got his hat trick, and flipped off his booing team members as he skated off. “Fuck you all, then. No cupcakes for anyone!”

“That’s fine,” Snowy called out as he leant against Tater. “We don’t want to die anyway.”

Jack eased out of his skates, then hit the showers before grabbing his things and heading out. As he slid into his car, he sent a text off to Lardo. **Lost that link you sent, and really want to make the cupcakes. Help.**

He threw his phone onto the seat, and made the drive home in less than ten. By the time he’d changed into joggers and a t-shirt, and got his computer set up at the kitchen island, his phone had three texts.

_Bro, you embarrass yourself._

_Here it is again._

_Actually wait, use this one. It’s a youtube tutorial. It has subtitles._

Jack rolled his eyes at his phone as though she could see him. **My English is fine thank you very much. But the video might actually help. Thanks.**

He saved the link in an email, then wandered into his lounge. The sofa was comfy, the sun warm through the large window as he curled up with his laptop, and he opened the link. He wouldn’t bake them today. Today he planned to enjoy his Saturday—off early from practise. Maybe a little lonely, but at least content enough in his life that he could be on his own without worrying. His life wasn’t perfect, but it wasn’t so bad, either.

Clicking the video, welcome music started up, and before Jack could react to anything, the most adorable, small blonde appeared. His hair flopped over his forehead, and in big, captioned letters at the bottom of the screen it read, **Hey, y’all.** Without even realising it, Jack was already lost in big, dark eyes.

*** 

Bitty sighed, rolling onto his side as he felt another wave of coughing coming on. The oxygen pushed up against his nose was starting to get irritating, and he could tell already his skin would probably be raw—if not an open sore at least on the left side.

He threw his elbow over his mouth and unleashed, feeling the icky, wet globs in his lungs struggling to get free as his body was wracked in half. It carried on a while, and when he pulled his arm away, he was grateful not to see any blood tinge on his lips.

That was brought him in in the first place, and what had kept him here for a week now. There were moments he didn’t mind. He really didn’t want to die—there was a lot he wanted to get done in his life, even if he knew that his time on earth was probably shorter than a lot of people’s. But he’d be damned if he didn’t at least try to hang on.

He was a good candidate for the transplants, really. It was just a waiting game.

And a game of not catching pneumonia, and not letting the infections in his body ravage him too hard. 

So yeah, maybe he hated hospital days, but he could appreciate that they were keeping him alive. He just didn’t have to entirely _like_ it. He sighed, flopping back against the uncomfortable pillows and stared at the tv for a while. He hadn’t worn his hearing aids since he was admitted, so he had no idea of the volume was on or not, but since no one had complained so far, he didn’t exactly care. Hospital tv was the worst though. Half the time their caption features didn’t work, and really, who watched TV these days?

If the wifi hadn’t been the worst, he’d have watched at least three full series on Netflix by now.

He shifted, kicked his feet, felt a little bit like a child for his restlessness, then grabbed his phone.

 _Lardooooooo. I’m so bored._ He sent an entire page of emojis at her, simply because he knew it would irritate her.

Five minutes later her text came back. **Bittyyyyyy. When are they letting you go? I still have a cold so you and your doctor would literally eviscerate me if I tried to visit. Oh but guess what I did today.**

_Is that rhetorical or am I actually guessing?_

**Fuck u. It’s rhetorical. Remember how I told you I have that super hot friend in the NHL?**

_I guess??_

**I sent him a link to your cupcake tutorial. He’s making them for one of his teammate’s kid’s like dance recital or smthn, idk but I thought it was cute. And a famous person is going to be making your cupcakes.**

Bitty stared at the screen, not sure how, exactly, he even felt about that. His youtube channel, which had become oddly successful over the last year, was a mishmash of cooking tutorials, rambling about cystic fibrosis woes, long rants about Beyonce, being queer, and the occasional commentary on figure skating championships—when the season came round. Bitty couldn’t really be sure why people liked him. He knew he was charismatic, but he never quite figured out how that was enough to make him popular.

But for all that he’d been doing this a while, he’d never had the attention of a celebrity before.

He knew about Lardo’s connection to the Falconer’s. Shitty had become the head of their legal team a few years back after one of his former college hockey teammates was drafted. But Bitty never really thought twice about it. He spent a single semester in high school playing on the co-ed team before his lungs decided they’d be having none of that, and he spent his entire senior year finishing his diploma from the increasingly stale air of his bedroom.

He attempted college after that, lasting one whole semester before the shared germs of Freshman dorms sent him into a spiral which lasted so long, he and his parents both weren’t sure he’d come out of it. So now he worked at home as online tech support to pay for his tiny-ass apartment, and spent the rest of his days trying to amuse himself with baking, and well…not die from the disease slowly suffocating him from the inside out.

_Okay if you’re gonna embarrass me, at least make sure he tweets the channel so when I die, this can be my legacy._

**Your drama knows no bounds. Why don’t you just tweet him. @jayzimmsNHL**

Bitty stared at the name for a while, and his thumb hovered over his twitter icon. He had a decent twitter following—he was no Misha Collins but a hundred thousand wasn’t anything to sniff at. But what the hell was he supposed to say to this guy who probably had a rabid, very sport-centric, very straight guy, following?

Bitty’s bio itself read: **Hella gay. I’m a bad bitch, no muzzle, let’s go.** He couldn’t imagine some straight dude being super cool with that. Though, he realised, if the guy was good enough friends with Lardo and Shitty for casual texting, he couldn’t imagine the guy being homophobic.

He sighed, then tapped out a tweet.

_@omgbittybakes- just heard @jayzimmsNHL is about to try my cupcake recipe. Post pics! #omgcupcakes_

He set his phone down after that, not wanting to wait round to just be ignored. The boredom was really getting to him, he decided. It was like some bad horror movie about cabin fever slowly eating away at your brain until you were some zombie-like shell of your former self. Only he had an actual fever, and frankly there were times he wouldn’t mind being nothing more than a shell of a human body.

He turned to the side violently as he began to cough again, this attack so intense it triggered a headache. With a sigh, he pushed the nurse’s button and knew he’d be waiting until they got one of the few on the floor who could sign.

Sure enough, it was fifteen minutes before one wandered in, though he softened at her easy smile. ‘What’s up?’ she asked, her fingers dragging up her chest.

‘Headache,’ Bitty signed with a grimace. ‘Meds? Please?’

She checked his chart, then his vitals, then gave his arm a pat. ‘I’ll get you something. Give me ten minutes.’

Fifteen minutes—and he tried not to be bitter about the extra five—later he was slipping into an easy doze as the medication flooded from the IV and into his veins. He floated and sighed happily as the nurse turned up his oxygen, then covered him with the blanket.

It wasn’t ideal, but he was alive. And he was starting to feel a little better.

He was just a little too dazed to see the blinking notification on his phone.

*** 

Jack, who was not an expert twitter user, stared at the notification. He got a lot of them, but this one caught his eye and it took him a few minutes to realise the account was from the youtuber. BittyBits had been his screen name on the video, and Jack had been entranced by it.

He most definitely hadn’t learnt to make the cupcakes. He’d been startled by the fact that the entire video was conducted in sign language, except the occasional times when Bitty’s hands were covered in goop to which he would say, “Lemme wash up, y’all.” His voice was thick, heavy with a southern drawl which was oddly fitting in spite of him not looking like he’d come from the south at all.

He was petite and probably short, Jack assumed. His hair was a soft, sunny blonde, his eyes wide and dark, his cheeks rosy. He had a smattering of freckles and one of the best smiles Jack had ever seen in his life. Though Jack didn’t know more than a handful of cursory signs—please, thank you, hello, good bye—he found himself enraptured by the quick way Bitty’s fingers flew. He’d never given the language much thought, but found himself opening up tabs to sign dictionaries and lessons and wondering how long it might actually take him to become proficient in conversation.

Of course that was a lofty goal, considering Jack’s days were usually consumed by Hockey and the obligations of being signed with an NHL team. But it was the off-season and…

Well that’s when the text came in, and he wasn’t sure what he was supposed to actually do about it. Bitty was asking for a photo of the cupcakes he had not made, and Jack wasn’t exactly sure he wanted the world to see the mockery he’d end up making of the treats Bitty had finished up in the video.

Bitty’s, of course, had not only come out perfect, but they had been decorated with frosting and rainbow sprinkles because, ‘Every cupcake should be at least a little gay,’ the captions read.

Jack’s face flushed at that. He was out. He’d been out now for the last three years when Parse had decided he wanted to come forward. Jack had waffled on the idea for a while, but as Kent pointed out, “Look man, I support you keeping quiet, but if people dig too deep after my announcement, it could be bad for you. You should have some say in it.”

He’d been right. Jack waited exactly one month after Kent and Tater had announced their relationship to the world to make his own statement. His PR team advised him to take to twitter, considering that’s where most people got their news these days.

“You’re not in a relationship, so it won’t be dangerous for anyone,” George had advised him in her no-nonsense way.

Jack agreed, so then tweeted his support for Kent and Tater, then announced to the internet he was bisexual, single, and ready to stand by any player who wanted a safe space to be who they were.

The splash was relatively small—which Jack thought Kent was more disappointed about than anything. But it died down and people stopped talking about it, and only the really terrible publications made comments about whether or not their sexuality affected their gameplay.

Considering the Aces won the cup that year, Jack had to say no, it really made no difference.

Swallowing thickly, Jack eventually pulled up his keyboard and tapped out, _@jayzimmsNHL- @omgbittybakes: doubt they’ll be good as urs but I’ll give it a try. #omgcupcakes_

Ten minutes later he got a text from Lardo. **Oh my god you’re gonna fall in love. I can’t wait for this. Make the cupcakes. This is like…real life and I’m making inhuman noises right now. Shitty wants to know what’s going on. I’m telling him everything.**

Jack sighed at his friend, put his phone away, then decided he’d watch the video and give the cupcakes a go. 

For what it was worth, they didn’t come out too bad considering it was his first time, and that Bitty was so damn distracting. Jack found himself getting so lost in Bitty’s smile, so much so he over-stirred the batter, and almost dumped the cup of sugar on the counter instead of into the mixing bowl.

But there were no disasters, and after the cupcakes had baked—only two baked over the paper cups—and they had cooled, he frosted, then snapped a photo of himself holding one next to his cheek. He hadn’t quite mastered the selfie. The lighting was terrible and he had chocolate smeared on his cheek but…whatever.

He posted the pic to twitter, in spite of Bitty having not replied to the first message. _@jayzimmsNHL: I think I’d call this a success. Just don’t call me for cupcake wars @omgbittybakes #omgcupcakes._

His tweet was favourited and retweeted over and over, but by bedtime, Jack still hadn’t heard from Bitty. He took his laptop into the bedroom, trying to quash down the vague disappointment and he flipped back to Bitty’s youtube channel. He began to scroll, then stopped dead when he saw one that looked like it was being filmed on a hospital bed.

It was entirely in sign, so Jack’s eyes scanned the captions as they rolled across the screen.

_Hey y’all. As you can tell I’m in hospital again. Bane of my existence, really. It’s like the Universe is testing me. Beyonce give me strength. Infection in my lungs again, and they’re moving me up on the transplant list so here’s hoping. Wouldn’t mind some fingers and toes crossed. Anyway, let’s take a minute to distract myself from this white-walled, sterile purgatory and talk about Lemonade. Because y’all…I think I may have ascended…_

Jack felt a faint buzzing in his fingertips as he reached for his phone and pulled up Lardo’s name. Instead of texting, he hit call, and waited four rings before her tired voice picked up.

“What’s up, man?”

“Is Bitty dying?”

There as a long silence. “Um. What do you mean?”

Jack swallowed. “I’m…I started watching some of his other videos. He’s talking about lung transplants and being in hospital. Crisse, Lardo. Is he…”

“Well everyone’s dying,” Lardo said, and when Jack made an impatient noise, she sighed and relented. “Fine okay. Look, he’s got cystic fibrosis, okay? He talks a lot about it in the vids, if you keep scrolling back. It’s…right now he’s doing okay, but it’s something that’s just…well you just never know.”

“Crisse,” Jack whispered again. It was strange. He’d never even met the guy and his heart felt like it was crumbling. “I…”

“Don’t let it get to you, alright? He hates that shit. Did you even talk to him?”

“No,” Jack said. “I tweeted him the cupcake picture but he didn’t reply.”

“Don’t worry about that, he’s a twitter fiend. He’s probably just medicated right now and sleeping.”

Jack pinched the bridge of his nose. “Lardo, is he…in hospital right now?”

Her pause told him the answer.

“How bad is it?”

“Not bad,” she said quickly. “I wanted to go visit but I’ve got this cold and they won’t let anyone near him like that. But he said he’d probably be out in a few days. Just chill, okay? Send him a DM or something, he likes those. And he’s going to be over the fucking moon that you made those stupid cupcakes. Cute pic by the way, Shitty just showed me. You are such a fucking dweeb.”

“You’ve been hanging out with Shitty too long,” Jack said, but he was smiling. “And um. Thanks. I’ll…send that DM thingie.”

“Oh god. DM thingie. This is a disaster. Just remember, keep it private. No scandals. I gotta go.”

“By Lards,” he said, and waited for her to ring off.

He didn’t send the DM that night. Instead he went through Bitty’s channel, watching until his eyes ached and he was forced to go to sleep. He didn’t dream of anything, but when he woke, his mind was instantly on the vlogger.

Grabbing his phone, he opened up his notifications and there it was. A private message.

_@omgbittybakes- Hey! Nice pic! You have all your teeth! I thought like missing one was a hockey rite of passage or something. Anyway let me know how they turned out. BTW your tweet got me like four thousand new followers so thanks for that._

Jack laid his head back on the pillow and smiled.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all the comments!! I'll try to reply to them asap. I wanted to say an extra thanks for the condolences. Means a lot, though I'll say it was a long, long time ago so whilst this is definitely cathartic, I'm doing fine, I promise :) And I think he would get a huge smile if he knew how sweet everyone was. xx

_@jayzimmsNHL- The cupcakes were a big hit. I might have to use your channel again. Maybe to make a thank you gift for Lardo. Any recommendations?_

It took Jack exactly forty-eight hours to reply to Bitty. Mostly because he had no idea what to say. He’d never been any good at making friendships, and even worse at keeping them. His social circle consisted of either hockey players, old University friends who did the heavy lifting when it came to keeping in touch.

And it wasn’t like Jack wanted to be this way. Truly, he wasn’t the sort who didn’t want to be there for the people he cared about. He just never quite knew how to make it work. And with Bitty, though Lardo had warned him, he couldn’t stop thinking about him in hospital, fighting off infections, waiting for the call saying he’d get new lungs which would prolong his life.

Jack had spent that first day looking up Cystic Fibrosis. He’d heard the term before, but he’d never come across it and the whole thing seemed vaguely terrifying. The life expectancy was short, the struggles were long, and even if Bitty did end up getting the transplant, it didn’t guarantee anything much if the rest of his body couldn’t handle the weight of the disease.

It scared him, frankly. But the more videos he watched, the more Jack wanted to know him. He found himself bookmarking ASL videos, and scrolling through Bitty’s twitter.

At the recital party where he debuted the cupcakes, half his time he spent on his phone, staring at Bitty’s solitary message, and his most recent twitter post: _@omgbittybakes- the moment you think you’re being sprung and the doctor gets that look on his face #tenmoredays #missmyoven_

Jack’s heart was thumping in his chest, and he startled when Thirdy clapped him on the shoulder. “Hey man, nice job with the cupcakes. And even tweeting. Jay-Zimms is a real human after all.”

“Don’t be a dick,” Jack said, elbowing him.

“I’m only saying it’s nice to see you branching out beyond the occasional blog on how to double your squats in half the time.”

Jack couldn’t help a small laugh at that. “Well goes to show you, I’m multi-faceted.” He glance at his phone again, but there hadn’t been an update from Bitty in several hours, and he was starting to feel worried.

“Well you can tell ya boy his work is a huge hit. And if it can get Jack Zimmermann baking…”

“Fuck you, Thirdy,” Jack said.

Thirdy dragged him over to the food table and waved cake under Jack’s nose until he caved and had a few bites. It was better than the cupcakes, but not so much better he felt bad about his own work.

He got home, opened up his twitter, and sent the message.

He didn’t get a reply until the next day. 

_@omgbittybakes: Nice! No higher praise than when kids love my baking. Don’t let me get too much credit, tho. You did all the heavy lifting._

**@jayzimmsNHL: I burnt oatmeal last week so credit where credit is due.**

_@omgbittybakes: Oatmeal?!?!_

**@jayzimmsNHL: the instant kind**

_@omgbittybakes: oh hun, oh you sweet sweet darlin’. How do you live? How do you survive?_

**@jayzimmsNHL: NHL meal services and a lot of nutritionist approved delivery. And breakfast cereal. I like cheerios.**

_@omgbittybakes: I hope I’m not overstepping any boundaries but that might be just the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard and I had to google you. Wow whatever those meal services are feeding you, seems to be working. Nice one of you and the cup btw. Was that last season?_

Jack flushed and rubbed a hand down his face, taking a moment before answering because Bitty was just so much and his heart was racing.

**@jayzimmsNHL: season before last. We were knocked out first round of the playoffs last season. I spent a week in Montreal with my parents crying into my cheerios.**

_@omgbittybakes: You’ve officially just made an enemy of my nurse. I just laughed so hard I had a coughing fit and knocked my vest machine off the table. Worth it. You poor poor professional athlete. I should bake you some cookies. What are your faves?_

**@jayzimmsNHL: Crisse, are you okay?**

_@omgbittybakes: Crisse? My wifi sucks here, what does that even mean? And yeah I’m good hun, promise. She thinks I’m being passive aggressive and okay maybe I am a tiny bit, but I miss my kitchen._

**@jayzimmsNHL: Crisse—it’s like Christ, in Quebecois. And I’m sorry I made you laugh**

_@omgbittybakes: Oh lorde do not apologise for that, darlin’. I could use a few these days. And Quebecois. So that’s like Canadian French?_

**@jayzimmsNHL: Ouias, ma langue natale est français mais j'ai appris l'anglais à l'école.**

_@omgbittybakes: omg._

**@jayzimmsNHL: haha**

_@omgbittybakes: Chirp away Monsieur Zimmermann and see who gets cookies when I’m finally out of here._

**@jayzimmsNHL: You don’t need to make me cookies, really. Your cupcakes helped earn me some cred with the guys. They no longer thing I’m all robot. Just half robot.**

_@omgbittybakes: They need to spend more time getting to know you, clearly. But I’m baking you a batch of cookies, but since you’re bein’ unhelpful they’re gonna be a surprise. Somethin’ real Canadian._

**@jayzimmsNHL: Not French? ;)**

_@omgbitybakes: Oh funny, haha. Okay they’re shooting me up full of dangerous chemicals which they claim are going to prolong my life. I have my doubts. Though I know they’re gonna make me pass out. You wanna chat more later?_

**@jayzimmsNHL: since your wifi is not great, you can text me. (number). Besides I’m not very good at twitter.**

_@omgbittybakes: Well you spend a lot of time underestimating yourself. You’re doin’ just fine. Lorde okay here comes the drug fog. Tlak to you soon Jack._

Not a moment later, another notification popped up. A tweet from Bitty: @omgbittybakes: got a nice French lesson from @jayzimmsNHL. Anyone in the market for a good French teacher?

Jack smiled and tweeted back: @jayzimmsNHL: nice chirp. Where are my cookies? I’m Canadian so don’t forget the maple syrup, @omgbittybakes

A minute after that, a text. **Nighty Night, Jack. Talk to you tomorrow.**

Jack hugged the phone to his chest, crawled into his bed, and smiled as he fell asleep.

*** 

Bitty woke hours later, the sky outside still dark, a fever raging, though he could see by the most recent temp on his pulse-ox machine it was hovering right round 102 which was better than earlier that night. His entire body was aching, throat scratchy, ears full of pressure, and his lungs were aching more than usual.

The pneumonia was gripping him harder this time, and he couldn’t help a vague, foggy worry that this time might be the last time. His last fight. He had grown up knowing that he was living on borrowed time in a way, that any breath could be his last. He’d grown up with a sense of mortality ingrained in his bones. He had never been like the other kids, feeling invincible, like one day they’d outgrow their childhood traumas and rule the world.

Most of the time he was okay with it.

But sometimes it got lonely.

He had a few friends, loyal and loving, ones he would give up anything for. But he also spent a lot of time avoiding relationships with people. He had too much focusing on his health to begin with and the stress of relationships was just a lot. People who didn’t know him didn’t understand. They couldn’t wrap their minds round the idea that sometimes he was good, and healthy—they didn’t know how much work it took to get there. They didn’t understand how it could all fall apart, how it could crumble. How one day he could be perfectly fine, and the next day struggling on a vent in the hospital.

If it hadn’t been for Shitty and Lardo’s casual acceptance of him, their persistent but not overwhelming desire to stay in Bitty’s life, they likely would have fallen by the wayside.

Bitty had met Lardo when she was looking for an ASL tutor during his freshman year. She comfortably situated herself in his life, and just stayed. When she and Shitty started dating, he proved to be just as easy going as she was.

So it was his life.

He spent most of his days on twitter or making vlogs, he baked, he studied, he worked. Sometimes he struggled to get through bouts of infections. When he was well he experimented with his diet, trying to pack in as many calories as he could into pies that wouldn’t conflict with his dietary restrictions.

It just…was

And then he got the tweet from Jack Zimmermann.

And his entire world suddenly felt like it was flipping on its axis. 

It would have been the first time Lardo sent someone to his blog, or the first time he’d had a twitter exchange with someone over his baking. He knew he was good. And he knew he was friendly.

But there was something about the quiet, almost awkward charm of the hockey player that sent Bitty’s head drifting, thinking, wondering. He couldn’t help but google halfway through their DMs and he was almost punched in the gut by how damn cute Jack was. He looked up video after video on the Falconers TV. None of the videos were captioned, and Jack’s accent made it really difficult for Bitty to read his lips, but his expressions were so deadpan, so perfect, Bitty felt his heart swelling.

He watched him joke with the team, the chirps, the silly project contests. He watched highlights of Jack’s games, his victories, his injuries. He read up on Jack’s past, his belly aching for Jack when he read about his struggles as a teen, how he’d disappeared, went to University, then come out on top.

But he didn’t look happy. Not entirely. Bitty, who read facial expressions the way hearies listened to tones, could tell. There was something about Jack’s smile that wasn’t quite there.

Bitty wanted to hug a proper grin out of him.

Feverish, and almost half wondering if he’d imagined most of their conversation, Bitty grabbed his phone and turned down the brightness. Pulling the threadbare hospital blanket to his chin, he opened up his DMs and read through them, smiling with each one. He was half sure Jack was flirting with him, and he no longer worried after reading about how Jack had come out as bisexual after a former boyfriend had come out with the NHL.

But he didn’t want to read too much into it. Didn’t want to get his hopes up, because more than likely Bitty’s life would be too much. Jack already had enough going on with his professional life.

And yet…

Bitty found himself pulling up the text thread. Jack hadn’t responded, but Bitty sent another one anyway.

**It’s 3am, how sad is it I’m in my hospital bed wishing I was at home with my oven. What even is my life, Jack?**

He didn’t expect a return text, but one came in not ten minutes later.

_Isn’t rest integral to getting better?_

**Try telling that to the pneumonia bacteria in my lungs. They seem to think they’re welcome to stay.**

Bitty held his breath after that, waiting for Jack to get freaked out. Instead, he got a whole different reply.

_Tell them I said to fuck off. I wouldn’t mind meeting you in person one day but obviously I can’t do that if they’re still there. And since I need to learn new recipes, and since you owe me cookies, I think I have priority here._

Bitty buried his face in the pillow and grinned for a full minute before he was capable of responding.

**I’m gonna try but let me warn you, they’re stubborn.**

_Not nearly as stubborn as I am. Trust me. I’ll wait._

Bitty clutched the phone to his chest, wishing—god wishing—that there was a way he could invite Jack to meet him. But lord, not like this. Lord not when he was inches from another stay in ICU. He closed his eyes and breathed as deep as his lungs would allow. I tried to pretend he couldn’t feel the ugly mucus clogging his airways, like he couldn’t taste the infection in his throat as he coughed. He wanted this. Life was unfair enough, couldn’t the Universe be a little more kind? _He seems nice_ , he thought quietly to the void. _He might actually like me. For me. Can’t I just have this one thing?_

Bitty fell to sleep with his phone clutched to his chest.

He woke six hours later when his fever broke.

*** 

Jack kicked his feet up on the coffee table, glancing at his phone which had the notification light blinking, but he wasn’t going to check it. He didn’t want to seem desperate. He glanced over at Shitty who was still blabbering on about the case with the guy with the stray hockey puck, and he sighed.

“…so it means another six hours of research and all for what. This fucking tool isn’t going to let us avoid taking this before a judge so I’m sacrificing my weekend for what?”

“Sorry, Shits,” Jack muttered, still staring at the table.

Shitty raised a brow, then leant over and kicked the phone toward Jack. “Oh god just check it. I can’t take the suspense.”

Jack flushed, but after only a moment of hesitation he reached down and grabbed it. Opening it up, there were no texts, but a tweet from Bitty. _@omgbittybakes- Fever broke. Everyone throw confetti. Throw me a parade #freebitty2k16_

Jack tapped out a reply. **@jayzimmsNHL-does that mean cookies are in my future? #feednhlplayerscookies2k16**

He set his phone down, but couldn’t hide his smile, which made Shitty dissolve into giggles. “Man, you beautiful fucker, you’re gone on him.”

“I don’t even know him,” Jack muttered.

Shitty rolled his eyes. “You forget how well I know you, Jay-Zed.” Shitty sighed, then shrugged. “You two would be good together.”

Jack scrubbed a hand down his face. “Wouldn’t it be…dunno, I mean. I don’t know sign language.”

“Oh that’s easy enough,” Shitty said with a little shrug. “Lards taught me easy enough, and hanging around Bitty it just kind of sticks. Trust me.” Shitty then signed a long string of sentences, making Jack’s eyebrows climb higher and higher. “Dude trust me, you’re bilingual, you can figure this out. And sign’s so much easier. Way less words to fuck around with.”

Jack flushed, then said, “I might have euh…you know. Looked up a few videos.” He lifted his hands and signed, ‘Name me Jack.’ The spelling of his name took him embarrassingly long, but the smile on Shitty’s face was kind of worth it. He shrugged. “Just in case,” he added. “Since you’re friends with him and if he euh…comes around.”

“Yeah sure, bud,” Shitty said, then winked. He grabbed his phone and flicked on the screen, then laughed. “Cookies?”

Jack shrugged. “Long story.”

“I bet,” Shitty said, and laughed harder when Jack threw a pillow at him.

*** 

_@omgbittybakes- Hey Jack, my phone is dead so I’m on my laptop. Can’t text. This alright? Lorde I hope you’re not asleep._

**@jayzimmsNHL: I’m up. Near my bedtime though.**

_@omgbittybakes- oh my god you have a bedtime. If I wasn’t already dead of cheerio cuteness, this would have killed me._

**@jayzimmsNHL- some of us have priorities. And team managers who will make good on threats if I don’t get enough rest and fuck up on the ice.**

_@omgbittybakes- you take all the fun out of chirping you, Jack. I won’t keep you from your bedtime._

**@jayzimmsNHL-I have a little while. How are you feeling?**

_@omgbittybakes- Great! If I don’t get another fever—and dependin’ on my labs tomorrow—I’ll be going home. My mama’s headin’ up to take me. Normally Lardo picks me up but she’s still got a cold._

**@jayzimmsNHL- I have the Falconers Jrs tomorrow, otherwise I’d volunteer.**

_@omgbittybakes- You sure know how to make a boy blush, Mr Zimmermann. That’s real sweet of you, but I can’t deny my mama the chance to fuss. Besides she’s gonna help me out with those cookies. Maybe an excuse to meet though?_

Jack stared at his phone for so long, his eyelids started to get heavy. Meet Bitty? God he…there was nothing more in the world he wanted, but he was nervous. His anxiety was racing up his spine. What if Bitty didn’t like him? What if he was just trying to be nice or….

_@omgbittybakes- Sorry if that was too much._

**@jayzimmsNHL- it wasn’t please don’t apologise. I just…Bitty, I don’t know how to sign. I’ve been watching videos but I’m no good and I’m…I don’t want you to feel like you need to do any of this for me.**

_@omgbittybakes- Jack, I think you’re real sweet, and I can help you with signs. It’s easy. I um…can’t read your lips though. You have an accent._

**@jayzimmsNHL- I do. You can tell? Was that rude?**

_@omgbittybakes- omg lorde no. You are so cute, I can’t get over it. It’s fine, Jack. And yeah I can tell, the way you move your mouth and all. Don’t stress, sugar. We can make it work. It’ll be worth it though right? For cookies._

**@jayzimmsNHL- well…it IS for the cookies.**

_@omgbittybakes- For the cookies. I should put that on t-shirts. I’ll let you get rest now, hun. Don’t want you making mistakes on the ice. I’ve seen some of your check highlights and good gracious I’ll be worryin’ every single game you ever play again._

**@jayzimmsNHL- haha. Don’t worry about me, I can take a lot :) But I should sleep. You should too. Talk soon, Bitty.**

_@omgbittybakes- fait dodo, Jack. I learnt that one on google ;)_

**@jayzimmsNHL- I’ll teach you proper Quebecois if you teach me sign. A tantot, Bitty. Bonne nuit.**

Jack set his phone down, closed his eyes, smiled into his pillow, and dreamt of the sweet southern blonde, and a plate of fresh baked cookies.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for this chapter: this deals with Bitty's experience with oralism/audism. My entire family is Deaf so I never had to see situations like this growing up, but having worked as a teacher at a Deaf school, I saw loads of well-meaning hearing parents who wouldn't let their kids be voice-off at home. Bitty's mum isn't necessarily a bad mum, just uneducated. It's something Deaf kids of hearing parents have to deal with a lot of the time. So just be warned--Bitty expresses some resentment toward his parents about it--even though he loves them.
> 
> This chapter also deals with Jack discussing Bitty's mortality and fear of dying, but not in extreme detail. Take caution if this type of subject is difficult or triggering for you.

Jack pushed one foot up onto the coffee table and balanced his plate on his thigh. The smells were alarmingly good, the restaurant not entirely approved by Clare, but he’d ordered the lamb pita platter so she couldn’t be too cranky with him. 

He glanced over at Alexei and Kent who were fighting over the hummus, and rolled his eyes. “You’re like children.”

“Fuck you, Zimms. You’re just jealous,” Kent said, swiping his pita through the hummus, and taking a huge bite. “Seriously dude, you need to do something about this whole bachelor life.”

Jack bit the inside of his cheek. He’d been having this argument with Kent since the dawn of time, it felt like. Kent had forgiven him—though never quite moved past the idea that Jack had never really fallen in love the way he had. Kent was happy now, and it was all water under the bridge, but Kent had become fixated on trying to make sure Jack was happy.

“How long are you here for? Don’t you have like…promos to do or something.”

“Stop trying chase away my boyfriend,” Alexei said with a pout, throwing his arm round Kent.

Kent grinned and snuggled in. “Look, I’m just saying you’re no spring chicken anymore…”

“Crisse, I’m not even thirty,” Jack grumbled.

“And I’m saying you could be close to retirement. Anything could happen. You really wanna putter around this place on your own, with no one to change your bedpan.”

“Oh my god,” Jack mumbled.

“On that note,” Kent said.

“Kenny,” Alexei warned.

That’s what piqued Jack’s interest. “What’s going on?”

Kent sighed and smacked Alexei on the thigh. “Shup up, Tater.” He looked back at Jack with the face that said, ‘I’m trying to seem innocent and sweet.’ “So we have this friend…”

“Ce quoi ces histwêres-la?” he said with a sullen face.

Kent huffed a sigh. “Look, she’s cute, totally your type.”

“If you say small and blonde…”

“Not small. Strawberry blonde,” Kent countered. “Look, it’ll be a double date so if it gets weird, we can bail. But Jack…you’ve been alone so long.”

Jack scrubbed his hand down his face, trying to ignore the determined look in Kent’s eyes because he knew when his friend got like this, he wouldn’t let it go. “If I agree to one dinner and it doesn’t go well…”

“I swear I’ll never bother you again,” Kent said, putting his hand over his heart.

“You know he lying,” Alexei said, shaking his head back and forth.

Jack snorted, rolling his eyes. “Yeah. But…it’s fine. As long as you’re paying.”

Kent looked scandalised, and Alexei threw his head back and laughed.

*** 

_@jayzimmsNHL- So I got roped into a double date with a couple of teammates. I don’t know why I said yes. This is literally the very last thing I feel up to doing. I hope your day is going better than mine._

**@omgbittybakes- well no awkward blind dates so…was it a blind date?**

_@jayzimmsNHL- technically? I don’t know her. The one who set me up is an ex, who is bound and determined to see that I don’t end up alone and dead and eaten by cats or something. His cat, probably, because she hates everyone._

**@omgbittybakes- okay feel free to tell me to fuck off but you said cat so…would this ex be Kent Parson?**

_@jayzimmsNHL- Crisse, I don’t want to say yes but…yes? I hope you don’t think less of me._

**@omgbittybakes- Then I’d be thinkin’ less of me because I follow his cat. She’s a princess.**

_@jayzimmsNHL- never tell him that to his face. He’s insufferable enough as it is. I hate his cat. Or well, she hates me, which is almost the same thing._

**@omgbittybakes- I won’t hold that against you. And my love of Kit Purrson will go with me to the grave. ;) Honestly tho, hun, sorry about the date. Why not just back out?**

_@jayzimmsNHL- 1- because Kent is relentless and thinks now that he’s happy I need to be happy. 2- because free food. I need a lot of calories so I won’t pass this up. 3- because it means I can order the most expensive items on the menu and make sure he pays for it._

**@omgbittybakes- again tell me to just shut right up if I’m out of line but…none of those reasons are about wanting to meet someone new. Or date.**

_@jayzimmsNHL- I know._

**@omgbittybakes-Jack are you…are you happy?**

Jack stared at his phone screen for way too long, feeling a lump in his throat and his head spinning. He took several deep breaths, then answered.

_@jayzimmsNHL- I feel like happy is subjective. I love my job, I don’t dislike my life. Sometimes I’m lonely. But I’ve never been good at relationships and the effort it takes with my schedule, it would feel unfair to anyone I have to date. It works for Tater and Kent because they live this life. They get it._

**@omgbittybakes- you didn’t answer my question.**

_@jayzimmsNHL- I don’t know._

**@omgbittybakes- Okay I ain’t an expert on happy considering I spend half my life hooked up to machines and oxygen and tubes which believes me kind of sucks the happy out of you. But I think it’s okay to not know. And it’s okay to want it. And it’s okay to not want it. I wasn’t judging you. I think you’re really great and I just hate to see you puttin’ yourself in a situation that might not feel great just because a friend asked you to.**

_@jayzimmsNHL- sometimes I feel like I owe it to myself to try._

**@omgbittybakes- then I officially approve. You’ll never hear me chirping someone who wants to try things. ;)**

_@jayzimmsNHL- Thanks, Bits._

**@omgbittybakes- well if it helps at all, my mama’s here and we’ve been trying out new recipes for your surprise cookies. I’m still half on bedrest so been doin’ most of the mixing here.**

**(photo)**

**@omgbittybakes: ruined some crappy ol’ sheets, and so far trial and error has been all error. But I’m gonna get you some cookies with maple syrup in them, I swear it.**

_@jayzimmsNHL- that helped. Maple is our religion though, so I’ll be judging you harshly._

**@omgbittybakes- omg okay Chef Ramsey. Aren’t you supposed to be getting ready for a date?**

_@jayzimmsNHL- I guess. Oddly this is much more appealing. I’m still in joggers and under my blanket on the couch and talking to you, and finding it hard to get motivated to leave._

**@omgbittybakes- text me a selfie when you’re all smartened up. I’m gonna save it as my phone background :D**

**@omgbittybakes- lorde was that weird and invasive?**

_@jayzimmsNHL- haha no it’s fine. And I will. I hope you give me something just as good. Like your face covered in frosting or something._

**@omgbittybakes- I’ll see what I can do. Now go. Shower and get dressed and try to have a good time. Have some drinks. Have doubles for me since I can’t have any. Then drunk text me.**

_@jayzimmsNHL- oh boy. Have fun baking. Talk soon._

Jack put his phone down and forced himself to get up, to get into the shower, and get dressed. He didn’t go all out, just some trousers and a button up shirt. He threw a little product into his hair which never took much to manage, and dug through his closet to find his shoes.

Kent had offered to pick him up, but Jack wanted the freedom to leave if he needed to. He was better about meeting strangers than he had been in the past, but the pressures of being on a date could prove to be too much for him. Yet another reason why the idea of dating was so unappealing.

And it wasn’t as though he didn’t trust Kent, really. Because Kent knew him better than anyone. The girl was probably wonderful, and likely into history and hockey, with a clever wit. But Jack just wasn’t feeling it.

He ignored the twisting in his gut, like he was doing something wrong. He thought about Bitty, and told himself it was absolutely not about the baker. At all.

Not even a little bit.

He sighed and fetched his phone, standing in front of his tall mirror which was attached to his bedroom door. He did look rather nice, he decided. Not his absolute best, but attractive enough. Biting on his lip, he sent a quick text.

**Lards, how pathetic would I be for taking a mirror selfie and sending it to Bitty? He asked for one.**

In response, Lardo’s first text message was just a key-smash. Then: _Oh my fucking god I’m dying I’m dyinggggggg. This is a looove storyyyyyy. Send him the selfie. Then screen cap the entire conversation and send it to me._

**You’re not making your case very well here, Lards. And I’m not sending you anything.**

He switched on his camera, tried a few different angles, then managed to get a decent photo. He felt silly and ridiculous, but opened up his twitter app and went to their conversation.

_@jayzimmsNHL- (photo)_

_@jayzimmsNHL- there you go. I expect something decent in return. I’m heading out but I’ll talk to you soon, Bits._

He tucked his phone into his pocket, sighed, then left the house.

*** 

Bitty sucked his bottom lip into his mouth, gnawing on it until it stung as he stared at his phone screen. He didn’t look up until he saw a hand waving in his periphery, then glanced up to see his mother in the doorway. She had one hand out, the other curving a finger round the back of her right ear.

Bitty sighed, then took his hearing aids from her, taking a moment to put them in and switch them on. Bitty had been hard of hearing since he was a toddler, but it had progressed and then at twelve, he’d been in ICU with a severe infection. The doctor on duty hadn’t taken Bitty’s cystic fibrosis into account, and the anti-biotic he’d been given had resulted in losing most of what hearing he had left.

Bitty hadn’t minded really, in the end. In a way it was easier for him, not straddling the line between hearing and Deaf. It had been a way to convince his parents to let him attend the Deaf school, and to use more sign than speech in the house, though even now his mother preferred to be verbal with him.

It was one of the reasons Bitty had been desperate to move away. He knew his parents loved him, but their understanding of his life, of his Deafness and even his illness, hit a plateau. It exhausted him, relying on his aids and lipreading, and really he could only take her for short periods of time.

At the moment, however, he did appreciate having her there. He was weak and exhausted from the pneumonia, even if he was healing, and it was nice to have a friendly face after spending so much time in isolation.

“…phone…with smile…happy,” she was saying.

He looked up at her and sighed. “Repeat it?” he asked.

“You keep…your phone…smile…look happy.”

Bitty got the gist, and shrugged. “Uh. Just talking to a friend. He plays in the NHL.” He debated for a moment, then reckoned his mom wouldn’t sell him out or spread rumours—and considering his dad was more about football and probably hadn’t watched a hockey game in his life, he doubted she’d recognise Jack. He swiped the photo open and held it out.

Suzanne’s eyes widened. “Oh. Cute. …your boyfriend?”

Bitty laughed, shaking his head. “Mama, no. I just said he’s with the NHL. He plays professional hockey.” Bitty lifted his hands to sign, ‘I doubt he’d be interested in someone like me.’

“Honey…too fast…caught half…repeat…voice please?” She at least looked apologetic about it, so Bitty signed and did. She sat down on the bed next to him and squeezed his shoulder. “You’re a catch.”

Bitty rolled his eyes. “You mean the illness and the constant care and hospitals and stupid YouTube channel and all the baking? Yes, mama, what a catch.” He threw his blanket off, reaching for his oxygen bag and hiked the strap over his shoulder. “You can help me make a batch of whoopee pies though. I think I have a decent maple frosting that’ll go with vanilla. I promised him.” He rolled his eyes again at his mom’s heart-eyes, and dragged her to the kitchen so they could begin.

Partway through, Bitty had gotten the frosting the way he liked it, and quickly took a selfie of himself holding a glob on his finger, and grinning. He quickly sent it to Jack’s twitter.

**@omgbittybakes- I hope the date is going well. If not these pies will make things better. That’s pure maple buttercream frosting you’re lookin’ at Mr Zimmermann, so chin up. I hope you’re having a good time.**

Bitty did not expect an answer, so when his phone buzzed, he startled then grabbed it and swiped the screen open.

_@jayzimmsNHL- I’m at a bar right now waiting on drinks. I don’t think it’s going as well as Kenny hoped. But you’re right, that photo did cheer me up. I’ll need the pies, Bits. I’ll need a lot of them._

**@omgbittybakes- Why’s it not going well? Did you conduct the entire conversation in your not-real French? ;)**

_@jayzimmsNHL- I conducted it in both English and perfectly valid, much easier to learn, much better sounding, not pretentious Quebecois, thank you very much, Mr Bittle._

**@omgbittybakes- Whatever you say, Jack. Whatever you say. I’d say I’d have to hear it to believe you but you know…**

_@jayzimmsNHL- I just choked on my drink. In front of like nine people, two who wanted autographs until I dribbled beer down my front. You owe me a bakers dozen of those pies._

**@omgbittybakes- oh my god I know I should be sorry but I’m not?? I need photo evidence!**

_@jayzimmsNHL- (photo)_

Bitty stared at the selfie of Jack wearing a scowl, though his eyes were bright and smiling. And sure enough, there was a wet stain right over the buttons on his shirt. Bitty took a selfie of himself covering his mouth, then sent it.

**@omgbittybakes- Jack, I’m sorry I didn’t mean for you to ruin your shirt. You poor thing. I’ll put something extra special in with the pies. <3 **

_@jayzimmsNHL- you don’t have to. Looks like I’ve been found out though, so I gotta run. Maybe talk tonight?_

**@omgbittybakes- yeah definitely. Have a good rest of your date, Jack.**

Bitty set his phone aside, then looked up at his mom who was wearing a dreamy smile. “Don’t,” he said.

She laughed and shook her head, patting him on the shoulder. She didn’t say anything, didn’t sign anything. She didn’t need to. He was obvious, his crush obvious. He knew he should try and get it under control, but thinking about Jack, the way it was easy to talk to him, and flirt with him, Bitty found he really didn’t want to.

He continued with his baking that night until he had to do his vest, then his g-tube feeding. He popped the pills he needed, turned up his oxygen, and got into bed.

Staring at his phone, the hours crept later, and Bitty found himself waiting for that moment he saw the little notification light letting him know Jack wanted to talk. He hated wanting this so much, but he knew there was no turning back.

*** 

Jack turned away from the bar, giving Kent a guilty look. “Te gueule.”

Kent laughed, shaking his head. “She went home, man. You’re off the hook.”

Jack felt his face turn read, and he looked away guiltily. “I didn’t mean to be so awkward.”

“You could have said you weren’t interested. I’d have let you off the hook if I knew you really meant it.” Kent’s eyes cut to the phone in Jack’s hand. “Who is it?”

Jack bit down on his lip, hard, and winced at the pain. “It’s no one.”

With a frustrated growl, Kent grabbed Jack’s arm, shoving him back on the barstool. Jack went with only a little resistance, and didn’t meet Kent’s eyes as his friend began to talk. “I’ve known you most of my life, Jack. Like since we were what, fourteen? And I was in love with you for about half those years at least. I know what you look like when you don’t give a shit, and I know what you look like when you’re starting to grow a feeling. So fucking fess up, dude. Who is it? Because I haven’t seen you get those eyes for anyone.”

Jack scrubbed a hand down his face, then let out a tiny growl. “It’s… j’chais pas. He’s…I don’t even know him. We haven’t met but it’s so…you know? Like it’s so easy and he’s just…he talks and I listen and it makes sense, but there’s so much to consider…”

Kent lifted a hand to stop Jack’s babbling. “T’as pas rapport,” he said firmly. “Start making sense, Jack.”

“His name is Eric. He goes by Bitty,” Jack said quietly.

Kent leant in. “The twitter kid? With the cupcakes?”

Jack flushed again. “Ouias.”

“Hooo-leee shit, Jack. Are you…oh fuck, I saw his video. Dude he’s… like. He’s Deaf. Do you even know sign language?”

Jack shook his head miserably. “I keep trying to learn. Been watching all these videos of it and I know some but…he’s…he’s friends with Shits and Lardo and we’ve been talking on twitter for a couple weeks now. He’s got a disease, Kenny. Bad one. He’s waiting on lung transplants and he could die. Crisse,” he breathed out, covering his face with both hands.

He didn’t look up until one of Kent’s hands curled round his wrist, and tugged. “You actually fucking like this guy.”

Jack nodded.

Kent licked his lips, then said, “So fuck all the rest of that stuff. Learn to sign, fucking actually _meet_ him and ask him out on a date. Visit him when he’s in hospital.”

“What if he…” Jack swallowed back the rest of the words.

Kent’s eyes went soft and he shrugged. “Look at it this way, he dies young, right? Does it mean he’s not worthy of being loved?”

Jack felt it like a punch to the gut, and swallowed. “Of course not.”

“So what the fuck are you torn up about. Tell him you like him. What’s the worst that could happen?”

“He could laugh at me. He could screen cap out conversations and go public.”

Kent rolled his eyes. “Jack, I know for a fucking fact people can be assholes but you would never fall for a guy like that. So. What’s the fucking hold up?”

Jack grabbed his drink, finishing off what was left before he answered. “I’ve never really liked someone like this. With us there was…it was…”

“I know,” Kent said softly.

“But he’s different. And Crisse, it’s so easy to talk to him. He knows who I am, what I do, but it’s like…it’s like talking to someone who hasn’t had their opinion of me tainted by hockey or my past. I don’t want to mess this up.”

Kent laughed, dragging Jack into a one-armed hug. “You might, but you probably won’t. But what’s that stupid fucking thing your dad and uncle keep saying? You miss a hundred percent of the shots you don’t take?”

Jack groaned loudly and punched Kent lightly in the shoulder. “Fuck you.”

Kent laughed and ruffled Jack’s hair. “Go home. I’ll get your drinks okay. Go home and text your boy and fucking do something about this, okay?”

Jack found himself nodding. He found himself getting an uber and heading home, and immediately changing into pyjamas before crawling into bed and turning on his phone. Kent was right. Bitty deserve better than Jack’s waffling, and he deserved to at least know.

With a breath, with a small prayer, he pulled open his texts and sent the message.

**Bits, I’m not sure if you’re awake but I was wondering when you have time, if we could talk. Nothing bad. I just have something to say. I know it’s late so it should be tomorrow. But I don’t want to wait long because…I like you. I’d like to…to ask you on a date when you’re well enough to go. And if you don’t like me back that’s fine, I’d like to keep being friends, but I just want to put this out there. I’m going to bed, and just…take all the time you need, okay? Sleep well, Bits. Talk soon.**

He waited ten full minutes to hit send. Then he turned off his notifications, buried his face in the pillow, and did everything he could to try and sleep.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for this chapter: frank discussions of cystic fibrosis, life expectancy, and mortality. 
> 
> Relationship negotiations. But they get to meet in the next chapter, yay! :D

Lardo stared at him, then at his phone, then back before her eyes widened and her hands lifted. ‘Have you not replied to him?’

Bitty’s face pinked and he shrugged. ‘No. Not yet.’

She scrambled for the phone, flicking the screen on, then dropped it on her lap. ‘Bitty! He sent this two days go.’ She dragged a hand down her face, and it was obvious she was groaning. ‘No wonder he hasn’t called or texted. He thinks you rejected him.’ Her hands fell onto her thigh as she stared at Bitty. ‘Did you reject him?’

Bitty’s head was shaking no before he could really ask himself that question, because honestly when he’d read Jack’s message, he’d done nothing but panic. It wasn’t that he didn’t want it. He liked Jack, more than he’d let himself like anyone in a long time. The idea of meeting Jack in person was one of the things that kept him motivated to get out of hospital. But he hadn’t expected it to be so blunt. So…soon.

He licked his lips, then sighed. ‘I don’t know what to do. This feels like it could be a disaster.’

Lardo’s arms were crossed, and the look on her face was incredibly unimpressed. She signed nothing, so Bitty bit his lip and tried to look properly apologetic.

‘I’ll send him a message today.’

Lardo pinched her fingers in his face. ‘No. Don’t message him until you know what you want. Jack’s not like most people. He needs to you be honest and straightforward.’

Bitty felt regret shooting through all four of his limbs, guilt settling in his belly. ‘Shit.’

Lardo laughed and shrugged. ‘Yes, but don’t fix it until you know what you want.’

*** 

Bitty and Lardo curled up on the sofa, and she offered to help him with his g-tube while he fiddled with his phone. Bitty ran the conversations back through his head, the feelings Jack gave him, the bone-deep cravings to opened up his phone and see a message waiting for him.

And he would be the worst liar if he tried to say he hadn’t wanted this.

But Bitty was afraid, and it wasn’t without reason. His illness scared people. His illness was everything in his life. He was Eric Bittle, but he was also the guy with cystic fibrosis who wouldn’t be living his life out in a retirement home. With his level of illness, his life expectancy—at best—was maybe fifty years old. At the rate he was sick now, he’d be lucky to make it to thirty without the transplant and frankly his phone hadn’t exactly been ringing with available lungs so…

When people learnt that, they inevitably ran. He couldn’t blame them. Bitty had enough friends in his CF circles to experience the vicious, gut-wrenching pain of loss which had just become part of his life. He longed for the day there wasn’t a memorial post on one of the online groups.

But that wasn’t going to happen. No amount of wishing or hoping would take his disease away. There was no cure. There was just this. Hospital stays and infections, his gut trying to give up on him, g-tube feedings, oxygen, ICU, and organ transplants.

He had to wonder—had to know—if Jack understood all of that.

Bitty looked down at his stomach as Lardo finished clearing the line, then pushed his button back into place. ‘Thanks,’ he signed.

She winked at him, then got up to clean everything up. Lying back, Bitty ran his fingers round the button, gnawing on his lip. He was going to text Jack. He was going to text him and tell him they could maybe see if this could go somewhere—provided Jack understood what he was getting into.

Bitty wasn’t going to get better.

Bitty was going to die pretty young.

And Jack had to accept that, and there couldn’t be a moment where Jack decided to leave because it was too much. Worse than being alone was being left for something he had no control over.

He glanced up at Lardo when she walked back into the room. ‘I’m going to text him.’

Her eyes went bright. ‘And say what?’

‘That as long as he understand what all this means…’ He waved a hand up and down his body, pointing at his oxygen for good measure, ‘…then I’d like to try a date.’

She clapped her hands, then flung herself next to him and hugged him. When was flushed when she pulled away. ‘I know it’s a lot,’ she signed, ‘but he’s a good guy. He likes you and I don’t think any of you will be too much for him.’

Bitty allowed himself the small, flickering flame of hope in his chest. ‘Okay. Well, you should go home and let me get to it.’

Her eyes went wide, face scandalised. ‘You won’t let me stay?’

Bitty laughed and shoved her. ‘No. Get out and if you’re really nice to me later, I’ll give you the details.’

She pouted, but leant in and pressed a kiss to his cheek, flashing him the I Love You sign.

He shot it back at her as she gathered her keys, and the minute the door was shut, he grabbed his phone and began to type.

*** 

Jack was just stepping out of the shower when he heard his phone buzzing against the counter. For a second his heart sped up, then he remembered he’d scared Bitty off and whatever it was, it wasn’t anyone he was in the mood to talk to. He grabbed his phone, leaving his screen dark as he went into his bedroom and changed.

He’d been low since the total silence and rejection from Bitty. He’d checked in with Lardo and Shitty only once, confirming Bitty’s silence was not due to illness or injury. Bitty’s twitter hadn’t updated, but apart from Shitty’s text, **Sorry brah, far as I know he’s at home doing fine,** it had been total silence.

Jack wasn’t used to rejection like this, mostly because he never put himself out there. He didn’t fall for people easy, and he wondered if this was just the universe telling him not to get involved with someone he didn’t really know.

He nearly brought Kent in on it. At the very least Kent and Alexei could take him out and attempt to get his mind off things, but drinking himself into oblivion was the last thing on his mind. He found himself still working on his ASL lessons in his spare time. He signed up for a charity game Kent urged him to do—an All-stars event in Boston which would donate the proceeds to the winning team’s charity of choice—and he signed up for a few extra practises with the Little Falconers.

Other than that, he was alone.

Like now. Sat on his bed in pyjamas, his laptop silent, his phone in his hands, steadfastly ignoring the message light.

Until he couldn’t.

It was stupid to hope.

It was stupid to wonder if maybe…

He swiped the screen open and his heart thudded against his ribs when he saw the notification. (1) Message from @omgbittybakes.

Jack’s tongue felt swollen, throat dry as he swiped the DM folder open and touched Bitty’s name.

_@omgbittybakes- Jack, first of all I want to say sorry for taking so long. I almost blamed it on me bein’ sick but that’s not fair to you. Your message took me by surprise and I wasn’t sure what to say. I do like you. I like you more than I should for a total internet stranger, and it was probably everything I’ve wanted to hear since you posted that cute lil selfie of you with the cupcake. But I still can’t say this is a good idea. I don’t have a good history, or long history, when it comes to dating. I’m sick. A lot. What I’ve got isn’t going to get better. I’m not going to live to old age, no matter what they do. If I get new lungs, and if my body doesn’t reject them, and if I can keep my pancreas from failing, and if I keep the other bacteria in my body from taking over, I might live to fifty. That’s something you need to be aware of when you’re dating me. Every day, Jack, I see a new face in a memorial post in my CF group. Every day someone I’ve talked to, or exchanged recipes with, has died. I can be perfectly fine one day, and in ICU the next. It won’t get better. Ever. And that’s a scary thought, but it’s one I live with every day of my life. I’m not asking you to make a commitment to me, but I’m not in a place I can just give my heart to someone, only to have them give it back because all of this is too much. So if you take some time and really think about this—and if you’re sure you can handle it, I’ll see about letting you treat me to some hoity-toity fancy dinner. And until then, if you’re not mad at me for being a lil shit and going silent for two days—maybe we can be friends? I’m really sorry Jack, I never meant to hurt you. I like you too much for that. I…don’t know what else to say. If you never reply to this, I’ll understand, but whatever else, I’m glad I said it. And whatever else we have, I’m glad I know you._

Jack put his phone down. His chest felt tight, his eyes stinging, and his fingers were numb. He felt trapped between a panic attack and dissolving into sobs. It was a lot, and Bitty wasn’t wrong. And the idea of losing him at all was so much that it felt like someone laid a two tonne weight on his chest.

But, he realised after a moment, not having Bitty at all felt worse. And Kent had been right—Bitty’s illness, his short lifespan, didn’t make him less worth loving.

His fingers were shaking when he pulled the message open.

**@jayzimmsNHL- I was hurt, but I’m glad you said something. I’ve been thinking about this since we started talking, Bits. But you’re right. It’s good to take time and I’d like to be friends at least. Can a friend possibly take another friend out to dinner sometime?**

_@omgbittybakes- Good gracious I at least expected a page of chirps and swears in French for what I did. You’re something else._

**@jayzimmsNHL- Too close to bedtime for that. Haha. :)**

_@omgbittybakes- if we date I’m gonna be so bad for your bedtime, Jack. You have no idea._

**@jayzimmsNHL- I can sleep through almost anything. I had to learn to sleep on a bus full of pro hockey players. I think I can make it through a cute baker blasting Justin Beiber.**

_@omgbittybakes- JACQUES ZIMMERMANN HOW DARE HOW DAREEEEE._

**@jayzimmsNHL- not Justin Beiber then?**

_@omgbittybakes- Revenge will be served ice cold. Just remember that._

_@omgbittybakes- but I think I could say yes on the dinner. It better be fancy. And expensive._

**@jayzimmsNHL- haha okay. Actually you know, we have a charity game next week we’re playing. Like an All Stars thing. I could get you tickets. Lardo and Shits will be there. We could eat something after?**

_@omgbittybakes- Will it be like hockey blasphemy if my first game is an all stars one?_

**@jayzimmsNHL- not if you’re there to admire my butt.**

_@omgbittybakes- oh my lorde. You know if your twitter ever gets hacked we’re both in so much trouble._

**@jayzimmsNHL- worth it ;)**

_@omgbittybakes- Ahhhhhhh oookayyyyy okay okay. Hockey game it is. I’ll be there. Do we have good seats at least?_

**@jayzimmsNHL- I’ll make sure you have the best seats, Bits.**

_@omgbittybakes- you’re not gonna be easy on me, are you mr Zimmermann_

**@jayzimmsNHL- I’m going to be invested. I like you Bitty. And I can’t wait to meet you. Promise I’m working on all my signs.**

There was a long pause, and Jack thought maybe Bitty had fallen asleep or maybe it was too much for him again. Then another message popped up.

_@omgbittybakes- You wanna skype? I wouldn’t mind um…having this conversation face to face._

Jack’s entire face flushed and his fingers trembled as he typed out his response.

**@jayzimmsNHL- Bitty I…I’m not fluent enough for that. I would just embarrass myself, I wouldn’t be able to understand a word, and I don’t want you to have to work at understanding me.**

_@omgbittybakes- Jack. There are ways around this, hun._

**@jayzimmsNHL- … euh.**

_@omgbittybakes- Thing is, I usually prefer to be voice-off, but not always. And not right now. It’s been a lot and I’d like to see your face. It’s really cute and whatever you don’t know, you can type. That’s the beauty of the simultaneous IM feature ;)_

**@jayzimmsNHL- I’m um. Not that cute, you know.**

_@omgbittybakes- Let me be the judge of that. My handle is EricBittle—original, I know. Just…think about it?_

Jack didn’t need to think about it. Not really. He was opening up his skype and typing Eric’s name into the search. He found him almost immediately. The photo had to be years and years old. Pre-under cut, with Eric’s floppy fringe hanging over his forehead, and his cheeks still round with teenage youth. But he looked the same, the grin as sunny as Jack had seen on every video he’d devoured.

He swallowed nervously, then set his laptop on his knees and hit the add button. Only seconds later, Bitty’s name was there, lit up. Then his laptop pinged and the call was coming through. He took three, big breathes before hitting accept call. 

There was a hiccup, a hesitation, then the screen connected. He cut his eyes to the small box in the corner where he could see himself looking like a disaster—hair in disarray from the shower, cheeks rosy with his blush.

And then there was Eric. On the screen, smiling shyly. He was wearing a beanie over his head, oxygen under his nose with the tubes draped across both cheeks, tucked behind what looked like very glittery hearing aids. He gave a shy wave, and Jack scrubbed a hand down his face before giving the sign for Hello.

Bitty bit his lip, then signed it back.

Jack’s fingers shook, but he hooked a finger behind his ear, then signed, ‘Nice.’ When Bitty lifted a brow in questioning, Jack typed out, **Glittery.**

Bitty’s laugh was bright and warm, and he shook his head. “Oh yeah, I forgot about that. When I first got these, Lards and I got really bored one night when I was stuck in bed, so she brought over all her paints and we decorated them.” He turned his head to the side so Jack could get the full view of the rainbow glitter. “I told her I wanted them to be hella gay.”

Jack chuckled, trying to calm his heart which felt like it was trying to beat out of his chest. Staring at Bitty’s dark, gorgeous eyes, he felt every sign he’d ever learnt over the past week flying out of his head. **Sorry I forgot how to sign I like them. Or maybe I never learnt that one. I don’t know.**

Bitty winked, then showed Jack. “Don’t worry about it too much, hun. And besides Shitty learnt and if he can do it, I think anyone can.” When Bitty winked, Jack was certain he had gone into cardiac arrest for a moment.

**Does it bother you that I’m typing?**

Bitty shook his head, leaning in toward the camera a bit, and had his elbow propped up on something, his chin in his hands. “Nope. I’m just glad to see your face. I was right about it. Actually it’s even cuter when I get to see you in motion.”

Jack flushed hard and covered his face for a second, hunching his shoulders when he heard Bitty’s giggles. **This is awful. I’m used to cameras on me but…not like this.**

Bitty cocked his head to the side. “You should have them on you all the time. You…” Bitty stopped then, turning his head, and his entire body seized with a coughing fit into the crook of his elbow. It carried on a good, long while, and when he finally came back up, his cheeks were flushed. “Sorry.”

**Are you okay?**

Bitty waved the question off, then splayed his hand out in front of him, tapping his thumb against his chest. “Fine. It happens a lot, you get used to it.” Biting his lip, Bitty then said, “Can you say somethin’ in French? Your French, not real French.”

Jack scowled. **Quebecois is real French!**

Bitty giggled, drawing one knee to his chest. “God you’re cute when you pout. I mean it though. Say something. I won’t really be able to hear it, but I watched this interview you did in Canada in Quebecois…m’I sayin’ that right?”

He wasn’t. At all, but Jack nodded anyway because it didn’t matter.

“And it was real sexy.”

Jack blushed and scrubbed a hand down his face, then signed, ‘Okay.’ His head went blank though, not sure what the hell to even say now. He cleared his throat. Then what came out of his mouth was the most cheesy thing he could think of. “Que-est-ce que tu fais en hiver d’avoir des beaux yeux de même?”

Bitty was staring, wide-eyed and grinning. “You gonna translate?”

Jack flushed hard. **It’s embarrassing. It’s…so embarrassing. I never say that to people in real life.**

Bitty leant closer to the camera, one hand up and he made a series of signs, grinning.

Jack huffed. **I tell you, you tell me?**

“Quid pro quo, Clarice,” Bitty said with a wink.

‘Ok,’ Jack signed, then let out a breath. **Roughly translated it’s, What did you do to get such beautiful eyes this winter?**

Bitty threw his head back and laughed. “Really?”

Jack shrugged. **It’s stupid, I know.**

“It’s not even winter, Jack!”

‘I know,’ Jack signed, flushing.

Bitty covered his mouth with his hand, shaking his head. “Lordy lord you are so cute. I can’t believe I’m gonna see you in person next week.” He pressed his palms to his cheeks like he was trying to push away the blush. “Okay. Mine was this.” He repeated the signs. “Did it hurt when you fell from heaven?”

Jack’s eyes went wide and his fingers flew over his keyboard. **That’s not better! That’s terrible. Bitty! Penalty shot for Jack.**

“You chirped me in hockey metaphors, you bad man!”

Jack threw his head back and laughed along with Bitty until his sides hurt. When they both finally calmed down, Bitty was leant on his elbow, staring fondly at the camera. Jack watched him lift his hand, and he imagined Bitty was touching the computer screen where his face was, and his cheeks erupted into another blush.

**I’m looking forward to meeting you, Bits. And I know there’s a lot for me to think about, but…can I tell you how I’m feeling right now?**

Bitty nodded, rubbing his flat palm in a circle round his chest. ‘Please.’

Jack gnawed on his bottom lip as he typed. **I like you. And the more I talk to you, the more I like you. I understand mortality Bits, better than a lot of people, I think. There was a time in my life when I wanted it to end. And I…made a mistake. Finality doesn’t scare me. But not taking the chance to be happy, that does. Whatever else happens in the future, from what I can see right now, you’re worth it.**

**And I swear by this time next year I’m going to be fluent in sign so I can tell you all of this without having to type it and look like an idiot.**

Bitty let out a slightly wet laugh, his eyes swimming bright with unshed tears. “You don’t look like an idiot Jack.” He hesitated, then whispered, “Can you tell me all that in Quebecois? I love the way it looks on your mouth. Kinda makes me wanna kiss you real bad.”

Jack felt his entire body go hot, and there wasn’t a force on earth that could have stopped him from the words flowing. It was easier to say in his mother tongue anyway, easier to let it flow and the words felt like they had more meaning. He’d talk forever, type forever, sign forever if Bitty wanted him to. And the thought was a little scary because they hardly knew each other. They’d only just met, and not in person. It could go badly wrong the second they were face-to-face.

But somehow, Jack didn’t think it would.

He said all that too. Then typed it out for Bitty to read.

“I agree,” Bitty said softly. He turned his head and coughed, then held up a hand and made several signs which Jack didn’t understand, before disappearing for several minutes. Jack could hear strange sounds, rustling sounds like a plastic package being opened, then a faint humming. When Bitty came back, he had a large mask over his mouth and nose with white steam coming out, and he typed instead of spoke.

_Sorry, breathing treatment. You got me so distracted I almost forgot. Sexy, isn’t it?_

Jack sighed inwardly, but he knew why Bitty was trying to be blasé and sarcastic. He understood Bitty’s hesitation and fear. But he wouldn’t let it ruin this. He wanted it. **You could be wearing a trash bag, Bits, and I’d think you were the most adorable.**

_God, you can make a man blush, Mr Zimmermann. I can’t believe you haven’t swept someone off their feet before now._

**No one worth sweeping up until you.** He was laying it on thick, and bit his lip in hesitation, afraid he might scare Bitty off.

But he could see the curve of a smile behind the mask, and heard a muffled chuckle and saw Bitty shake his head. _Ridiculous. I should go soon. Don’t want to disrupt your bedtime. But you really want to meet?_

**Yes. I really want to meet. I want to talk to you as much I can until then. If that’s okay?**

_Perfectly okay, Jack. I think we were doin’ real good up to now. Skype me tomorrow, I’ll introduce you to Señor Bun._

Jack laughed. **I look forward to it. Good night, Bits.**

_Night, Jack._ Bitty followed up with a string of emojis ranging from smiling to hearts. Then the call ended.

Jack felt a weight lifted off him, and a smile on his face as he set his laptop aside and tucked himself into his blankets. It wasn’t perfect, it wasn’t solid, but it was something. And he felt hopeful.

As he reached for the lamp, his phone buzzed suddenly, and he flicked off the light before picking it up, and swiped to reveal a text from Bitty. It was a selfie of him, mask and oxygen off, making a kissing face. Underneath read, _Sweet Dreams, Mr Zimmermann._

Jack fell asleep with his phone clutched to his chest, and a smile on his face.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for this chapter- mild anxiety, hockey injury

Bitty’s leg was bouncing up and down, shaking the entire car as Lardo crawled to a halt at the red light. Shitty swivelled round in his seat, making a Y with his hand, tapping it on his chin when Bitty looked at him. ‘What’s wrong?’

Bitty dragged a hand down his face, then made an O with his fingers, shaking them below his chin before flinging his fingers outward. ‘Nothing.’

‘JACK,’ Shitty spelt with a shit-eating grin. When Bitty rolled his eyes and shoved a middle finger at Shitty, he laughed and reached back, squeezing his shoulder. ‘It’s going to be fine,’ he insisted. ‘Don’t be nervous.’

‘I’m not,’ Bitty signed back, the gestures short and irritated proving nothing more than he was lying. Terribly. When Shitty raised a brow at him, Bitty’s knee stopped bouncing and he bit down on his bottom lip, almost hard enough to taste blood. ‘What if he doesn’t like me in person. What if he thinks this is weird.’ He flicked the side of his oxygen tube.

Shitty shook his head. ‘He will love you as much as we do,” he flicked his fingers between himself and Lardo who was nodding emphatically. ‘He’s been gone on you for weeks.’

Bitty leant back against the seat, then dug into his pocket for his phone. Pulling up his messages, he stared at the last one he’d sent.

_omgbittybakes- Hey we’re on our way. Good luck tonight._

It hadn’t been read yet and Bitty wasn’t surprised considering Jack had practise and warm-ups, plus press to do since it was a charity game they were playing. He was just putting his phone away when the little tick mark appeared on the screen, then the ellipses letting Bitty know Jack was typing.

**@jayzimmsNHL- Just got to the locker room. Parse is here playing his 80s crap and dancing with Tater. My own personal hell.**

_@omgbittybakes- aww hun, just dance with them. All music is great._

**@jayzimmsNHL- Bananaramma.**

Bitty giggled so hard, he had to lean against the window, staring fondly at the one word.

_@omgbittybakes- 80s classic, don’t knock it. Is um… Is it weird to skate with your ex like that?_

**@jayzimmsNHL- Used to be. We didn’t…there was a time when our games were intense. But we’ve moved past it. We’re good friends.**

_@omgbittybakes- Do you ever miss him?_

Bitty regretted it the moment he typed that out. They weren’t even properly dating and he was asking jealous asshole questions. God. He was red-faced and completely ignoring Shitty and Lardo’s inquiring stares as he watched Jack type, then stop, then type again.

**@jayzimmsNHL- Kenny and I have a complicated history and I can promise you, whatever you’ve read about us, it’s about 2% truth. I don’t miss him because I have him in my life. I promise, Bits, he’s not a threat.**

Bitty pressed the phone to his forehead, letting out a shuddering breath. 

_@omgbittybakes- I shouldn’t have asked that question, it was rude and it doesn’t even matter. I’m just nervous, I think. I get to see you in like an hour and it’s like…everything, Jack. I feel like I’m going to jump out of my skin._

_@omgbittybakes- Not like in a bad way, though. In a good way. I can’t wait._

**@jayzimmsNHL- me too. And you can ask me anything you want, bud. Swear. I have to get going, we’re doing a couple of things on the ice with the press for charity stuff, but your tickets and passes will be at the window, and I…I want to see you after the game. That’s the plan, right?**

_@omgbittybakes- that’s the plan. I’m gonna give you the biggest hug of your life, Jack Zimmermann. Good luck. :*_

Bitty shoved his phone in his pocket and ignored the chirps coming from the front seat. What did he care, anyway, when he had an entire evening of the Adonis that was Jack Laurent Zimmermann waiting for him.

*** 

Skating off the ice, Jack headed back with his team to the locker room and plopped down on the bench. He stretched his legs out in front of him, wriggling his toes in his tight socks. He could see his phone popping out of his duffel bag, and the itch to pull it out and text Bitty more was almost overwhelming.

Honestly, knowing that in just a handful of hours he’d be _with_ Bitty was almost too much to process. They’d been chatting and skyping every night, Jack working on his signing skills which were still poor, but edging into conversational—though the grammar still confused him. But he could understand some of what Bitty was saying, and Bitty was able to understand all of him.

They could go for hours. Jack’s sleeping routine had been upended, but it was hard to care when in exchange he was getting to know this amazing ray of Georgia sunshine. Jack swore he hadn’t felt like this about anyone before, didn’t think he could.

He startled suddenly when a hand landed on his shoulder, and his eyes cut up to see Kent Parson standing over him, one hand on his fist.

“You’re on the opposing team, Kenny. What the fuck are you doing here?”

Kent grinned brightly. “Wanted to suck my boyfriend’s face off one last time before I wipe the ice with you.” His light eyes raked over Jack, then he slumped to the bench. “Spill, Zimms. You look like you’re going to puke or pass out or something.”

Jack dragged a hand over his face. “Fuck I…he’s here. Eric. Bitty. He’s…tonight. I got him tickets.”

“Lyosha said something about it,” Kent said, nodding at the giant Russian who was muttering angry curses at one of his laces that had shredded. Kent shook his head fondly. “Shouldn’t that be like…a good thing, though?”

Jack nodded. “It is. I mean, it is for me. Crisse I just…what if he doesn’t like me? What if he changes his mind or thinks…”

Kent silenced him by squeezing his shoulder again. “Breathe. In and out.” Jack complied, following Kent’s breath and realised just how worked up he was when he started to calm down. When he was good, he nodded, and Kent drew his arm away. “Remember, whatever happens happens, right? This game isn’t a big deal, the charities get a pay-out no matter what. We’re going to have fun, and afterward you’re going to meet that adorable little shit and show him your fucking awful sign language in person, and shit, man, you might even get laid.”

Jack shook his head, feeling terrified all over again. “Fuck. What if he expects…”

“I was joking,” Kent said swiftly. “Look, I’m fucking this all up and I’m sorry. You and that little baker are going to be just fine. You have friends around and you’ll have a nice dinner and it’ll be good. I swear.”

Jack nodded, then reached over and gave Kent’s leg a pat. “Thanks.”

“Anytime, loser,” Kent said, then ruffled Jack’s hair. He rose, cupping one hand round his mouth and said, “Alyoshenka, come give me a hickey for luck.” The entire locker room groaned as Tater laughed, then tackled Kent against the wall.

*** 

Kent would have been right. He really would have been. Except there was no way to predict certain things in hockey. Like how many goals you’re going to get, and who you might piss off. And often times there was no way to predict when a check might hit you completely wrong. Jack had learnt years ago how to take checks, punches, whatever the guys could throw at him.

And this was a charity game so the tension was low.

But sometimes things just…line up a certain way. Like a stick getting caught in your skate the moment a giant D-man gets you by the hip, at the right angle. And your helmet shifts to the side though it shouldn’t, and your head cracks on the ice. Then everything gets a little wobbly, and dark.

Jack would have had a nice night, really. With Bitty, and Lardo, and Shits. They would have had drinks and a meal and conversation. Jack would have been chirped for his signs, and Bitty would have held his hand, and they might have even kissed by the end of it.

Except none of that happened.

Because as Bitty sat at the edge of his seat, his eyes wild and desperate, trying to follow what was happening, Jack was being stretchered off the ice.

He was down, and he wasn’t getting back up.

*** 

Jack’s eyes opened slowly, and he was profoundly aware of a few things. One, there was a faint light from between the curtains. Two, there was the smell of anaesthetic which meant he was in some sterile room. Three, his shoulder was throbbing, and so was his arm where he had an IV attached. And four, a small, soft hand was holding his.

“Mrrfhg,” Jack attempted. Somewhere in the back of his head he knew he had a concussion. It explained where he was, and the fog in his head. It didn’t explain who was holding his hand, and the funny feeling he got when he stared into dark eyes.

“Hey there, darlin.”

Jack recognised the accent, and things started to come back in small clips. The hit on the ice, being taken off. He was fairly sure he’d been in and out a few times—for his scans, and the cognitive tests the doctor had put him through. He couldn’t remember what had been said, his prognosis. His anxiety flared up at the thought that he was probably pretty bad off, and it meant the entire rest of the season could be fucked.

“I…”

Bitty’s hand squeezed his. “I can’t really understand you. And you can’t use screens so we can’t text. I’m sorry hon.”

Jack stared down at the hand Bitty wasn’t holding, and he knew he could sign something, but his brain wasn’t connecting to it yet.

Bitty followed his gaze, then laughed quietly. “It’ll come back. I think most of your confusion is from the meds they gave you. The doctor said your concussion was really mild, but you busted your collarbone pretty bad.”

Jack was then aware that his arm had been immobilised and well…that made more sense. He was more than grateful his head fog was from drugs and not from the injury. “Oh,” was what he managed.

Bitty chuckled, shifting the chair he was in a bit closer. He let his fingers draw up and down Jack’s arm, and Jack turned his head to the side to take Bitty in. He was wearing a soft flannel shirt, sleeves rolled to the elbows, and tight jeans. He had on a beanie, which was pushed far back on his head, revealing the sparkly hearing aids in his ears. He had small red marks on either side of his nose, which Jack knew was from his oxygen. He couldn’t seem to help himself as he reached out, brushing the tips of his fingers against the marks.

Bitty smiled at him, taking Jack’s fingers in his, and pressed a kiss to his knuckles. “That okay?” he asked in a near whisper.

Jack nodded, grimacing at the pain in his collarbone from the movement.

Bitty eased his arm down, but didn’t let go. “It’s really weird, I don’t usually get to see people on this side of hospital. Usually it’s me all stuck in the bed.”

Jack bit his lip, then circled his fist round his chest. ‘Sorry.’

Bitty wagged his finger at Jack. “Don’t you dare, now, Mr Zimmermann. What happened to you I…it was terrifying. I’ve never seen anything like it. Does that happen a lot?”

With no real way to explain to Bitty properly about the risks in hockey, the dangers, and the hits he’d taken and the ones he’d skated through, he merely nodded and squeezed his fingers again.

Bitty looked worried, and Jack started to panic, like maybe it would be too much for Bitty to handle, but then the shorter man just leant his forehead down against Jack’s arm and held him tight for a while. 

It wasn’t until the nurse came in to talk to Jack that Bitty excused himself with an, “I’ll be in the hallway, alright? Your friend Kenny’s here and he’ll fill me in.” Bitty stood, brushing his lips along Jack’s forehead before letting himself out.

Jack watched him go, barely registering what the nurse was doing as she went about her business checking his vitals. When Kent finally walked in, he seemed a bit pale, but was wearing his usual smirk.

“You should see this shit, Zimms. Your boy’s out there in the hallway with Alexei and they’re trying to exchange Russian for sign language. It’s fucked.” He flopped into the chair and waited for the nurse to give her instructions.

“…released. I’ll get the doctor to call in scripts for pain, and I’ll be by with your concussion aftercare.” She looked at Kent. “Are you his ride?”

Kent shrugged. “Can be, babe.” He winked at Jack who rolled his eyes in spite of the discomfort in his body.

The nurse looked unimpressed as she walked out, then Jack turned to Kent. “That was not how I imagined this night was going to go.”

“Pretty fucked,” Kent said with a slight laugh. “Though I got a few hours to talk to Bits and damn, Zimms. I like him. If I wasn’t madly in love with Alexei and like…trying hard not to be such a fucking dick all the time, I’d be down.”

“Fuck off,” Jack muttered.

Kent laughed again. “If you could also do us all a favour and not try to kill yourself in a fucking charity game, that would be great.”

“Bitty said my head wasn’t even that bad.”

“Nah. Doctor said it was mostly shock from the break,” Kent replied with a shrug. “Combined with knocking your head, recipe for disaster. I mean, we’ve had it bad before, but fucking hell.”

Jack sighed, then tried to sit up. It was less than comfortable, but he was being released so he’d have to stand soon enough. “Did Shits and Lardo stay?”

“Nah. Shitty had some meeting in the morning so they took off. I’m staying with Alexei, so I told Bitty we can work out his ride or something. It’s not far, and he was pretty much refusing to leave your side until you were coherent enough to remember he was here.”

“God. I don’t…” Jack pinched the bridge of his nose with his good hand, and winced when he realised he was bruised there too. “Our first date and I don’t remember half of it. Who won, by the way.”

“We did,” Kent said easily.

“Fuck.” Jack had been on the ice for a total of twenty minutes before it had all gone to hell.

Soon enough the doctor came in, going over Jack’s instructions. His pain meds were wearing off, but he refused another dose, wanting to be as cognisant as he could with Bitty riding in the car with him. His recovery would take four weeks, give or take, and he’d be following up with his team’s PT regarding playability afterward. The doctor’s face was pinched and annoyed, but told Jack to come back if he started vomiting or having any cognitive difficulty.

Jack had been through the routine before, so he waved him off, then waited patiently for his wheelchair.

It was mortifying, really, as Kenny took over pushing and hauled him into the corridor. Kent had been right—Bitty and Tater were leant against the wall, Tater working through some signs, and Bitty laughing at him. They looked comfortable, though. Happy. Like Bitty had always been around and it made Jack want to cry or laugh or…something. At the very least hold him tight and not let him go.

The four of them made their way to the lift, then Tater broke away to get the car, and Jack—sleepy and still in pain—felt profoundly grateful for his friends. And for Bitty, who had moved close again, taking his hand. When Jack looked up at him, Bitty’s eyes were soft.

“I hope you don’t mind me stayin’,” he said quietly.

Jack shook his head, squeezing Bitty’s fingers in hopes he could let him know just how damn grateful he was for his presence. A second later, Kent held his phone in Bitty’s face, who then laughed—the sound soft and gorgeous.

“I told him unless you’d literally had your brains knocked out of your skull, you wouldn’t want him anywhere else but here.”

It was true, but Jack couldn’t help his, “Fuck you, Kenny.”

Bitty seemed to understand that one, because he laughed along. Soon enough, though, Tater had pulled round with his massive truck, and he and Kent helped Jack into the back seat. Jack situated himself against the far door, then Bitty climbed in after and helped Jack with the seat belt.

He wanted to be mortified, but it was a difficult thing when Bitty slipped into the middle seat, then fitted himself right up against Jack’s arm. They hadn’t really discussed much regarding cuddling, but Bitty’s presence made the pain feel far off. He curled his good arm round Bitty and they rode in silence to their building.

Maybe it wasn’t Jack’s ideal first meeting, but if it meant he got Bitty taking care of him, he’d take it.

*** 

They got Jack inside, another dose of painkillers down, and a glass of juice before he was put to bed. Bitty didn’t understand him very well, but he could tell his mouth was moving in protests, even as both Kent and Alexei ordered him down.

“I’ll come sit with you in a few minutes, hon. Okay?” Bitty said, and finally Jack relented.

When he was gone, Bitty took a moment to himself in the kitchen to regroup. He wanted to stay. He had his bags with him—Alexei had hauled up everything including his oxygen, nebuliser, and his bag full of his many medications which he never left home without. It was a pain in the ass, but it meant he could stay a little while. He’d survive without his vest for a day or two, even if pounding on his own sides sucked.

Getting himself a glass of water, he turned and saw Kent stood there wearing a small grin, and holding up a whiteboard which read, **I grabbed this from Tater’s. He uses it to write me love notes because he’s a fucking nerd.**

“Cute,” Bitty said.

**It’s not great for Jack, but it’s better than electronics. You’re staying, right?**

Bitty bit his lip, then sighed. “If he won’t mind.”

Kent rolled his eyes and wrote, **LOL do I have to answer that?**

Bitty just shook his head, then set his glass in the sink, and when he turned, he saw another message.

**1- Imma learn sign if u and Zimms are gonna date. 2- do u need anything before we go?**

Bitty hesitated, then shook his head. “I think we can make do. I appreciate all your help, Kent. Really.”

Kent set the board on the counter, then opened his arms and Bitty read from his lips what he thought was, ‘Bring it in.’

So he did. They hugged for a bit, then Bitty said goodbye to Tater who only half mangled the signs for goodnight, and they were gone. Bitty took in a trembling breath, then hitched his bags on his shoulder, got another drink, then ventured into Jack’s room.

He figured he’d stay a bit, though if Jack wanted him on the sofa he’d be good with that too. But Jack had been hurt, scaring the absolute shit out of Bitty, and there was no way he wanted to leave until he was certain Jack was fine.

He found the hockey player on the bed, sat up against pillows, looking relieved the moment Bitty stepped in. Bitty waved the whiteboard at him and said, “So you can write to me a bit. It…should help.”

Jack tipped four fingers from the front of his chin. ‘Thank you.’

Bitty grinned, then thumped his things down and began to rummage through them. “I’m gonna change. Then do some of my exercises if they won’t bother you?”

Jack shook his head, looking a bit dazed and sleepy, but he waved Bitty off, and Bitty grabbed his pyjamas and slipped into Jack’s bathroom. His tank top was a little big, slipping off his shoulder, but his bottoms were fuzzy and comfortable, and he felt a lot better after being practically painted into his jeans which Shitty had insisted made his ass look amazing.

He glanced at himself in the mirror and sighed. He looked pale still, sickly, irritation from his oxygen near his nose. Not in any way nearly as attractive as someone who looked like Jack Zimmermann deserved.

And yet. 

And yet, Jack seemed to really want him here. So here he was.

Bitty walked back into Jack’s room to find Jack half-asleep, his head turned to the side. He was holding the whiteboard which was still blank, and he blinked suddenly when he realised Bitty had come back in the room. He offered a sheepish smile, and Bitty waved him away as he hopped up on the bed and curled next to his side.

“I can sleep on the couch if you want some space,” Bitty offered.

He was now sat close enough that Bitty heard his soft, “No,” of protest. Jack pinched his fingers together with the sign right after.

Bitty laughed. “Alright, sweetheart.” He glanced at the bedside clock, grimacing at the late hour, then looked over at his stuff. He couldn’t neglect any of it, but the temptation to curl up against Jack and just lay there and forget for a little while was so tempting. He groaned as he reached over, pulling his nebuliser pack, and fished round for one of the little foil packets of his steroid blend. “Will this bother you?”

Jack shook his head emphatically as Bitty set it up, plugged it in off the side of the bed, then used the mask instead of the mouthpiece so he could keep talking. “Can you understand me alright?”

Jack nodded, then signed, ‘Sorry,’ with his good hand, then pointed to his left which was still strapped against his chest.

“Oh sweetheart, you don’t apologise for that. You okay to write, or is that too much for your head?”

He leant over to watch Jack’s scrawl across the board. **I’m fine, really. Slower than typing.**

Bitty laughed. “Yeah it is. I uhh…so I gotta do this thing to clear my lungs, okay? And it’s a little weird so if it bothers you I’ll just go out and…” Bitty stopped when Jack grabbed his wrist and squeezed. He let out a trembling breath, understanding what Jack was trying to say, then shifted to start working on his ribs. 

Since getting his vest, Bitty rarely needed to do this. He had never really been good at doing this on his own, and the few times his vest machine broke, Lardo or Shits filled in. But for a period of time during his University years he’d done it, and a few of the people who had been friendly with him had been weirded out by the whole process.

Jack, however, just watched curiously, then wrote, **Does it hurt?**

“Nah,” Bitty said, then stopped to cough for a few minutes. He could feel the steroids working themselves into his system, his lungs feeling more open which wouldn’t last, but it was always a small treat for these few moments. When he was done, he swiped a hand under the mask, and went back to his ribs. “I have a vest I use which is better than this, but it’s too big to carry around.”

Jack didn’t write anything, just let Bitty carry on until the treatment was done. He didn’t work on his lungs as long as he should have, but he promised himself an extra long vest treatment when he got back. He set his machine aside, then popped his handful of pills, glowering at his g-tube feeding which he decided after all this, he’d skip and throw in some extra calories in the morning.

He shuffled back against the bed, then nudged Jack with his elbow. When the sleepy hockey player looked over, Bitty smiled and whispered, “Hi there.”

Jack’s cheeks immediately flushed, and Bitty was almost overcome with how fucking adorable this giant man was. He shifted slightly over so Jack could move onto his side, then his big hand came out and traced over Bitty’s collarbone, then round the raised, hard bit of skin which was grown over his port.

“What is that?” Jack asked.

Bitty heard the lilt of Quebecois which he couldn’t have heard over the computer, and he loved it. Jack started to pull his hand away, but Bitty grabbed it and pushed his fingers back. “It’s okay. It’s just my port. So if I need treatments or and IV or something—which I do, a lot—it’s easier to get it in.”

Jack made a humming noise, touching the skin. He said something, but Bitty didn’t catch it and asked Jack to repeat, which he did a bit louder. “Hurts?”

Bitty shook his head. “Had it for a while now. They gotta move it every so often but you get used to it, you know. I uh…” Bitty hesitated because his button often bothered people the most. But he wanted Jack to see all of him, and this was part of it. He lifted the hem of his shirt, then touched the edge of the button. “For my g-tube feedings. I have to do one in the morning.”

Jack didn’t touch it, but he did brush his fingers along the back of Bitty’s hand, and their gazes met for a long, warm, slow moment. Bitty let out a shaking breath, and Jack followed him. “Okay,” Jack said.

Bitty blinked, knowing he’d read the word right off Jack’s lips, but he was a little afraid to believe it was this easy. It had never been this easy. Not even with Shitty and Lardo who still needed time to adjust. And maybe it was because Jack was medicated, or maybe he was just hiding it well. But Bitty felt at ease and he wanted to hold on to this moment.

Once upon a time he used to believe he’d meet a boy who would love him for everything he was—broken body and implanted parts and clubbed nails and breathing treatments and all. He sucked in his breath as Jack took his hand, rubbing his own thumb over Bitty’s knuckles.

He then raised Bitty’s hand, then stopped and his eyes were asking, ‘May I?’

Bitty nodded, then tensed, waiting, having imagined too many times what Jack’s lips might feel like on his skin.

Jack pushed Bitty’s hand against his mouth, and Bitty lost himself in it. It was nothing like he had dreamt. It was better. It was everything, God it was everything.

When Jack pulled away, Bitty cupped Jack’s cheek and brushed his thumb there. “I wanna kiss you so bad, Jack, but you’re all medicated and I want to make sure it’s what you want. So can we wait?”

Jack nodded, then carefully pulled away to write, **We can wait. But I want to kiss you. Have for a while. Will you sleep here with me?**

Bitty smiled. “Yeah Jack. Of course I will.”

After that, Jack set the whiteboard aside as Bitty got his oxygen on, then they pushed the duvet back and Jack switched off the lights. Bitty removed his hearing aids and set them on the nightstand, then settled on his side facing Jack who was still slightly elevated. But his arm sought out Bitty and their hands gripped each other, setting over Jack’s chest just above the brace holding his arm in place.

“If you need me, just shake me. I won’t be able to hear you, okay?” Bitty murmured.

He felt Jack squeeze his hand in acknowledgement, then Jack’s breathing began to even out. Bitty was certain for a little while, there would be no chance he’d be able to sleep, but lulled by the gentle waves of Jack’s chest against his hand, Bitty drifted off, feeling content, and happy, and for the first time in so long—not alone.


	6. Chapter 6

Jack woke with a vicious ache in his shoulder, and the profound awareness that he was not alone in his apartment. The side of the bed which had been previously occupied by the shorter baker was now cold, but he could smell something cooking, along with coffee brewing.

Jack glanced at his nightstand, at the pill bottle and water Bitty had left for him, but having a clear head was more important than the ache in his shoulder. He felt profoundly lucky his concussion wasn’t worse than it had been. The blow to the head could have been bad. Jack took a moment to let himself feel mortified. His first date, and it had become this. Bitty at his home, taking care of him.

Not that Jack wouldn’t have showed him the same courtesy, but it was not what he intended. Throwing his feet over the side of the bed, he used his good arm to push himself to standing. When there was no dizziness, he took a few, tentative steps forward. He made it to the toilet, which was difficult one-handed, but it wasn’t his first arm-break in the NHL. He managed it with some efficiency, then scrubbed his teeth and ran a hand through his hair.

Satisfied that he didn’t look like a complete disaster, Jack wandered into the kitchen to find Bitty at the counter. He was wearing shorts and an over-sized hoodie with the sleeves pushed to the elbows. He had on giant headphones which covered half the side of his head, and the music was so loud, Jack could hear it perfectly from the kitchen doorway.

He bit his lip, trying to remember what he’d read about getting Bitty’s attention. Not wanting to just grab him, Jack took a breath, then stomped his foot on the floor. Bitty’s hip-swaying stilled, then he turned and met Jack with a brilliant smile.

‘Good morning,’ Bitty signed.

Jack repeated half the gesture with one hand immobilised. Bitty winked at him, then pointed his spatula at the whiteboard which was sat on the counter. Pulling out his iPod, he switched the music off, then set it to the side.

He made a sign, then said, “Breakfast.”

Jack copied it as best he could one-handed, and Bitty gave him a thumb’s-up. Pleased, Jack walked over and leant down, hesitating before he said, “Can I kiss your cheek?”

Bitty, who was watching his mouth intently, flushed but nodded, and presented one freckled cheek. Jack felt his heart thudding as he put his hand on Bitty’s shoulder, then brushed his lips across the warm, soft skin. He didn’t want to stop there, but he didn’t want to push it. Bitty made a noise of disappointment when Jack pulled away, but grinned and went back to flipping what looked like crepes in the pan.

Jack reached into the cabinet by the fridge and pulled out his anxiety meds. He saw Bitty watching him, but felt no worry or hesitation as he popped the cap and took one out. He gave Bitty another soft smile, then went to the fridge for juice.

By the time he was done. Bitty had a pile of crepes on a plate, chopped fruit, yoghurt, and honey on the breakfast bar. There was a cup of coffee along with cream and sugar off to the side, and Bitty gestured for him to sit.

Jack did, pulling the whiteboard over, and laughed when Bitty quickly began to dress his plate. “Since you’ve only got the one arm,” Bitty said with a wink. “You tell me what you want in here.”

**Show me the signs?** Jack wrote.

Bitty did quickly, Jack copying them before signing, ‘Yoghurt, strawberries, honey.’

Bitty gave his knee a squeeze, then made him three full crepes. Jack fixed his coffee, and watched as Bitty got his own plate which held more food than Jack expected him to. Bitty saw the gaze, then laughed and said, “I have to eat a lot of calories. The CF makes it hard for my body to absorb what I need, so I lose a lot of weight.”

Jack didn’t know what to say to that, so he just nudged Bitty, and they quickly dug in. It felt soft, sweet and domestic. Like Jack could have this every single day, and never get tired of it. He found himself staring, and Bitty aware of it, blushing.

“Sorry,” Jack said, then set his fork down to circle his fist over his chest.

Bitty shook his head. “I’m not gonna get mad because you like lookin’ at my face, Mr Zimmermann.” He winked, then got up to take the plates to the sink. Jack wanted to protest, but Bitty’s posture made it clear he wasn’t going to let Jack get too physical that day.

When the dishes were in the sink, Bitty turned and held out his hand. “Come on, Mister. We can have a couch cuddle while I do my g-tube. It…will it bother you?”

‘No!’ Jack signed as quickly as he could.

Bitty smiled, then pointed toward the lounge. Jack hurried over, arranging the cushions so they could be comfortable, then Bitty came in a few minutes later with his bag and supplies. He settled in next to Jack, reclined slightly as he mixed something into what looked like a massive syringe. 

Jack tried not to stare, instead focusing on the feel of Bitty against him, just under his arm. Jack let his fingers toy with the hair at the back of Bitty’s neck, and he hummed, moving into it.

“You can keep doing that,” Bitty said quietly. “And if you wanna watch TV or whatever, it won’t bother me.”

Jack hesitated before grabbing the remote, and absently he switched it to the ESPN Hockey network. He was unsurprised to see them running highlights of the day, and as he fiddled with the buttons, he hit the CC and watched as the words lazily began to scroll up the screen. They were delayed, but not by too much, though they didn’t seem to catch everything being said.

Bitty began to depress the syringe, and Jack caught a glimpse of the white liquid being pushed through a long tube. “Helps with calories,” Bitty said, catching Jack’s eye. “It’s not the most pleasant.”

Jack waved him off, then leant over and kissed Bitty’s temple again. Bitty grinned at him shyly, nuzzling his head over.

“Nicest morning I’ve had in a long time. Did you sleep okay?”

Jack signed, ‘Ok,’ then fumbled for the whiteboard Bitty had brought along. He uncapped the marker with his teeth to write. **I slept really well.**

“Might be the narcotics,” Bitty chirped.

Jack elbowed him playfully, softly. **That, or the adorable southern man in my bed. You have really good cuddles.**

“You’re makin’ me blush,” Bitty complained as he tapped the syringe which was almost empty. “I slept nice too, though. I wouldn’t mind doing it again.”

**When my arm is healed and I can sign better, it’ll be even nicer.**

Bitty laughed and this time turned his head to place a kiss against the side of Jack’s chest which was the only place he could reach. Jack startled, but grinned when Bitty looked up at him.

“Hand me that water bottle?” Bitty asked.

Jack leant forward, disturbing Bitty’s position, but did so and watched as Bitty filled the syringe with water to clear the line. When it was done, everything was removed, wiped down, and put in the bag.

“I’ll clean it in a bit. I just wanna enjoy this,” Bitty said, and carefully moved so he could put both arms round Jack. He pushed the side of his face against Jack’s chest, and the pair of them looked back up at the TV. One of the reporters was analysing Jack’s performance.

“He seemed incredibly distracted that night. I know people have been waiting and watching to see if Jack Zimmermann is buckling under pressure. It’s been years, but he is vulnerable and that night he was just not on his game. Whether or not it was stress or the early signs of a recurring addiction that…”

The TV suddenly went black, and Jack looked down to see Bitty white-knuckling the remote. Bitty looked up at Jack with wide, watery eyes. “How can you…watch that?” Bitty asked, his voice loud and tight. “How can they assume you’re going to buckle. Jack… that was so unfair. It was…”

“Bits,” Jack said carefully. He shifted to grab the whiteboard, wishing he had the use of his hands, wishing he had the language for what he needed to tell Bitty. **That’s been my life since I was a kid. Because of my dad, my every move was analysed. It just…is what it is. It doesn’t bother me.**

That wasn’t quite the truth. There were times when the scrutiny did get to Jack. But right now with Bitty against his side, with knowing Bitty didn’t care about any of that…he was unbothered. 

Bitty was looking at him carefully, maybe scrutinising him, but Jack merely smiled and watched the flush creep across Bitty’s face. Before either of them could say anything, there was loud knock on the door, and Jack jumped.

Bitty made a Y with his hand, tapping his chin. ‘What’s wrong?’

‘DOOR,’ Jack spelt. 

He attempted to get up, but Bitty used surprising strength to push him back to the cushions. “No you don’t, mister. You just sit your cute hockey ass down and let me handle it.” Jack watched as Bitty eased himself up, then walked to the door and opened.

He immediately stepped aside as Kent and Tater walked in, grinning, and Tater quickly accosted Bitty off toward the kitchen, making wide signs which made Bitty giggle. Kent rolled his eyes as he dropped to the edge of the sofa with a fwoomp. 

“He was up half the night on YouTube looking up Bitty’s channel and other ASL stuff,” Kent said with a half-smile. “I think my boyfriend has a small crush on your boyfriend.”

“They’re both cute so…” Jack trailed off.

Kent looked at him, then smiled and shook his head. “Fuck I forgot how adorable you were when you’re in love.” He scratched at the side of his nose. “How’s the arm?”

“Comme ci, comme ça,” Jack said with a shrug of his good shoulder. “I’ve had worse.”

Kent eyed him like he didn’t quite believe Jack, but instead of chirping him or attempting to argue, he just pulled out his phone and checked his messages. “So uh. There’s this agency, right? That helps out professional athletes. Like kids who get drafted before they finish their senior year, or ones who want to get certified in something. Foreign people who need help with English. Tater used them, I guess. Back when he was first drafted.”

Not sure where Kent was going with that, Jack nodded. “Yeah, okay.”

“Anyway they totally have ASL tutors so well…” Kent pulled off his snapback and ruffled his hair before jamming it back on backward. “Like if you’re really serious about this guy, I was thinking about giving them a call, you know? You, me, Lyosha. The other guys, I’m guessing. At least Thirdy and Snowy, and Lyosha thinks Poots would want to. If he’s going to be around and shit.”

Jack blinked at him, startled, feeling a warmth he didn’t expect to feel because of Kent of all people. “Ah,” he said, his throat a little tight. “I…yeah I think so. I mean it’s new but…”

“You fuckin’ like this guy, I get it,” Kent said. “He’s like a tiny ray of sunshine, it’s hard not to. When you were out and we were waiting for you he ah…” Kent stopped and shrugged. “It was just obvious he’s about as invested as you are. So…”

“Yeah,” Jack said. He glanced toward the kitchen where he could hear both Bitty and Tater laughing. A minute later, Tater’s head poked round the corner.

“Itty Bitty and I make pie,” he said. “You rest, we bake. Zimmbonni have any allergies?”

Jack shook his head. “Nope.”

“Then rest and we take care of you,” Tater said. He looked at Kent then muttered something in Russian Jack didn’t understand, but made Kent blush, then he disappeared.

When Kent sat back, Jack shook his head. “Looks like I’m not the only one completely gone.”

“Shut up,” Kent muttered, but he was grinning.

*** 

It was decided Kent would give Bitty a ride back to his in the morning since he was flying out from Boston, which left Jack and Bitty the evening together. Tater and Kent took off around lunch, the four of them full on too much pie and a quiche Bitty had thrown together for brunch.

For all the language barriers they had between them, Jack had never felt more comfortable in his life. He took a pain pill just after lunch, and spent the late afternoon in a slight haze, watching Bitty attempt to pronounce Russian words, and watching Tater attempt to work on his signs.

Jack wanted to be better. He wanted to be able to open his arms to Bitty. He wanted to be able to absorb all the language Bitty was offering, then with a clear head kiss him until neither of them could breathe properly.

But next time, he knew. There would be a next time. He was certain of it. With the way Bitty looked at him, dark eyes bright and wanting, Jack could feel it in his chest. Bitty wanted him just as much as Jack wanted Bitty.

Around dusk, Bitty was feeling tired. He’d fallen into several coughing fits which resulted in an extra long session with his nebuliser, which was when Kent and Tater took their leave. There were short hugs all around, then Jack called for delivery as Bitty finished up his treatment.

His shoulder was throbbing in spite of the pain meds, and he knew he was being piss-poor company. But Bitty didn’t seem to mind much. He sorted payment for the food, dished it all out, and sat crowded into Jack’s space as they ate.

When they were finished, he picked a Netflix movie, then curled up with the duvet he dragged off the bed. Jack watched as he slipped his oxygen on, then pushed himself up under Jack’s good arm.

“Not hurting you?”

‘No,’ Jack signed.

Bitty hummed, then turned his gaze back to the TV where the captions were scrolling. Jack was only half paying attention, focused more on the feel of Bitty with him. He let his hands drift into Bitty’s hair, toying with the soft, light strands. Bitty’s eyes fluttered closed, and he let his fingers curl round Jack’s fingers that were strapped against his chest.

Pulling his head back, Bitty blinked up at him. “Will you be able to text after I go?”

Jack bit his lip. “Can I…talk?”

Bitty nodded. “Yeah. I’m getting better at understanding you.” He winked, drawing a finger along Jack’s lip, making him shudder.

Jack swallowed thickly, letting out a rough breath. “I need to get clearance first. Which might be a few days.”

Bitty frowned. “So…no skype?”

Jack cut his eyes to the side, then said, “I want to. Maybe short ones?”

“Rule breaker,” Bitty said with a grin. He moved up away from Jack, then pushed up onto his knees. “I want…can I kiss you a little bit?”

Jack swallowed thickly again, then nodded. He let his hand curl into the back of Bitty’s shirt, hauling him forward, just enough so their noses brushed together. He let Bitty close the distance, which only took a moment, then soft lips met his.

It was chaste, as far as kisses went. Closed lips parted just enough to slot together, but it was right. It felt like they were always meant to be there, just like that. Jack felt a rushing through his limbs and his hand tightened. He felt more than he heard Bitty groan against him as Bitty’s hands drifted into his hair.

When Bitty finally pulled back, his cheeks were flushed. “Goodness,” he said, his voice heavy, accent thicker. “I…I can’t wait until you’re better.”

“Ouias. Moi aussi,” Jack said.

Bitty blinked. “Was that…that wasn’t English.”

Jack flushed. “Sorry. Sorry I…”

Bitty laughed, pushing his forehead against Jack’s. “It’s okay. You learn sign, I’m gonna learn French and Russian…”

“Quebecois,” Jack corrected, making Bitty start giggling all over again.

*** 

Jack was half awake when Kent arrived for Bitty. The night had been rough for Jack, the pain almost unbearable and all he really wanted was a shower, but he was under instructions not to take the brace off just yet. Around four that morning he’d taken another dose at Bitty’s insistence, and he did so, feeling immeasurably guilty at having kept Bitty awake all night.

“M’sorry,” Jack muttered as Bitty leant over the bed. “You’re tired.”

Bitty brushed Jack’s hair back away from his face. “Don’t you apologise to me, Monsieur Zimmermann. I’m gonna be just fine. I can nap.” He let his fingers trail down Jack’s cheeks. “Gonna miss you, though.”

“Mm. Me too,” Jack mumbled.

Bitty laughed. “I think that was English, but hard to understand your sleepy talk. I’ll be in touch, okay? When you’re allowed, you skype me.”

Jack nodded, then used his good arm to drag Bitty in for a hug. Bitty returned it with relish, letting his lips linger against the side of Jack’s neck, then his cheek, then the corner of his mouth. He brushed his fingers through Jack’s hair one more time before pulling away.

“I expect a date re-do the moment you’re better,” Bitty called.

Jack raised his hand, putting a finger to his lips, then drew his flat palm down in the half sign for, ‘Promise.’

Bitty laughed, then closed the door softly behind him. Jack felt the loss of Bitty almost profoundly as he curled up alone in his bed. It had been less than two full days, but Jack had already gotten used to Bitty being there. If he closed his eyes, it didn’t take a lot to imagine Bitty around all the time, and Jack wondered if they’d ever get there.

He was happy to take whatever Bitty wanted to give him, but he knew one thing—whatever the future held, he planned to keep Bitty in it.

*** 

_@omgittybits- I better not see that these messages have been read, M Zimmermann, until you have your clearance. But I wanted you to have something nice to come back to on twitter. This weekend was not what I had been expecting. I thought the game, maybe dinner, maybe a kiss. Instead I got the guy I’m falling for all busted up, and practically bed-bound. Yet somehow it felt…right. Not that you being in pain feels right but…part of me is glad it wasn’t perfect, because so little of my life is. There will be far too many times that our dates are going to be cut short because I’ll be in hospital, or in surgery, or…something. And I think I needed to know that whenever those things happened, it would be okay, too. That it maybe could be…it could be our normal. I think what I’m really tryin’ to say here, Jack, is that I like you. I wanna date you. Be your boyfriend. If you’ll have me. I’m not gonna ask you when we skype, I’m gonna wait for you to get this message. But I like you a whole lot, and I think we can make this work. This is me saying I made up my mind, Jack. I wanna be yours. If you’ll have me._


	7. Chapter 7

Bitty sighed, trying not to stare at his phone screen as he edited the latest video. He’d been neglecting his channel lately in favour of spending his time talking to Jack, but with the concussion, and the semi-regular updates from Tater who had agreed to pass along messages until Jack was given screens back, Bitty was finding himself bored.

Which was why he invited a couple friends over for his video— ‘Who carves the better pumpkin—Graphic Designer, or Surgeon?’

Justin and Adam—better known to Bitty since forever as Ransom and Holster, had been in his life since University. He’d met Holster at the local queer group when Bitty had first started looking for something social to get into, and was over the damn moon to find another person from the Deaf community to connect with. Holster was Hard of Hearing, had come from an all-Deaf family and being around him made Bitty wistful for a sense of community he never really had growing up.

Holster’s boyfriend, Justin, had been starting his first year Residency at St Therese Medical Centre in Boston then. He was now working there full time, which meant Bitty got to see them less and less—especially with how often Holster travelled for his own work. But them being in town and free just happened to coincide with Bitty’s extreme boredom, and the pair of them never shied away from making fools of themselves on the internet.

Bitty looked up when he saw a hand waving in his periphery. ‘Can I switch to Hockey?’ Holster asked.

Bitty raised a brow, having forgotten Holster had actually played Hockey, and still did occasionally in the amateur city league. He realised he also hadn’t spoken to them since Jack. Which was entirely possible that they knew who he was…considering they were immediately flicking to the Falconers V Bruins.

‘Yeah, go on,’ Bitty said, his fingers flicking lazily with his signs. He pushed away from the video and his still quiet phone, walking into the kitchen to grab a juice for himself, and two beers for Rans and Holster

He came back in, flopping onto the corner of the sofa and handed one of the beers across to Rans, then the other to Holster who was next to him. He slipped his oxygen back over his nose, took a drink of his juice, and watched as the game camera began to pan over the players.

The game had just started, and Bitty knew he wasn’t going to see Jack on the ice. What he didn’t expect, however, was to see the camera pan over the players on the benches, and to come to a focused stop on Jack. He was dressed casually, in jeans and a hoodie, his arm still strapped to the front of his chest. He looked stressed, his eyes narrowed and focused, and Bitty was fairly sure Jack was supposed to be at home resting, not at the game.

He reached for his phone and pulled up Parse on his texts. **What the hell is Jack doing at the game?**

The reply was almost immediate. _Babe, this is Jack Zimmermann. The only way he wouldn’t be there is if he was comatose. Or dead. And even then, not a sure thing. No worries, Bits. He’s fine. You watching?_

**Yeah, I have some friends over. Hockey nerds. The camera’s on him now. He looks worried.**

_Seriously he’ll be alright. You shoulda seen some of the shit he skated through back in the Q. Tell you what, I’ll call him after the game. Got any messages?_

**Just tell him any more nonsense and he can kiss those maple cookies goodbye.**

_And you’ll send them to me? ;)_

**We’ll see. Thanks, Kent.**

_You got it, Bits._

When Bitty set his phone down, he saw both Rans and Holster staring at him with curious expressions. His cheeks flushed. ‘What?’

Holster leant forward, very slowly, setting his beer on the table. ‘Who were you texting?’

‘No one,’ Bitty signed, a little too quickly. He glanced at his phone, and saw the shared look between the two men, but he wasn’t fast enough. Holster pinned him, and Ransom managed to grab his phone and unlock it with a few clever swipes.

Resigned to being found out, Bitty sat back and bit his lips as Ransom flicked through the messages, his eyes getting progressively wider until he shouted, “OH SHIT,” so loud, Bitty and Holster both heard it. He shoved the phone at Holster then spelt, ‘PARSE? KENT PARSON?’

Bitty groaned, scrubbing a hand down his face before nodding his fist in resignation. ‘Yes. KENT PARSON.’

Holster had a look crossed between awe and betrayal. ‘How?’ was the only thing he asked.

Bitty rolled his eyes. ‘I can’t believe you two didn’t follow twitter.’

‘Bro,’ Holster said, ‘I’ve been swamped. I didn’t…you’d better explain like…yesterday.’

Bitty did. It took him a while, and when he got to the part where Jack had been injured at the game, Holster leant over and punched him on the arm. ‘Ow. What the fuck?’

‘You spent a weekend nursing JACK fucking ZIMMERMANN in his bed. I’m dead. I’m…you have to introduce us, shit.’

‘No,’ Bitty said, sniffing indignantly, lifting his nose. ‘You two are so embarrassing.’

At that, Rans all but jumped over the coffee table and threw himself into Holster’s lap. They both leant forward, batting eyelashes and trying to look cute until Bitty threw his hands up.

‘Fine. But after my date.’

Holster smacked Rans on the shoulder repeatedly until Rans shifted enough for his boyfriend to sign, ‘Bits should invite him to our game! Can you imagine?’

‘Bro,’ Rans signed, his face dreamy.

Bitty rolled his eyes and waved at them until he had their attention. ‘He’s injured. He can’t play with you. Look,’ he nodded his head at the TV which was showing Jack on his feet, yelling, looking frustrated. Bitty couldn’t help a giggle, overwhelmed with how cute Jack was. God, he missed him.

‘Holy shit you are so in love,’ Holster chirped. ‘We’d better get a wedding invite.’

Bitty glowered and they only stopped the moment he started threatening their pie supply.

*** 

“…and he told me to tell you he misses you, and…” Kent hummed, and Jack guessed he was reading through his texts. “Oh, and some friends of his who play hockey found out he knows us and is demanding they meet you.”

Jack chuckled quietly. The sting of not being able to play in the game—and the loss to the Bruins—was rough, but knowing Bitty was thinking about him, talking to his friends about him, took the edge off. “Thanks, Kenny.”

Kent sighed. “He’s a good dude, Zimms. Take care of this one. Maybe you and Lyosha should drive up there. You don’t have another game until when?”

“Thursday,” Jack said. “But I know Tater has a lot going on.”

“You think he’d mind. He fuckin’ loves Bits. Oh and did that instructor get a hold of you? Alexei said she came by the training centre a few days ago.”

“Yeah,” Jack said. “She gave me a few things to work with. Crisse, it’s really intimidating, Kenny. What if I look foolish? What if I can’t figure it out? I mean French and English were so easy and…”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself. This’ll be easy, too. Once you get out of the brace.”

Jack pushed his ear to his shoulder to hold his phone and sighed, rubbing his face with his good arm. “Yeah. I just don’t want to fuck up.”

“You won’t,” Kent said, and the finality in his tone made Jack relax almost instantly. “Look, go downstairs and talk to Alexei, then text me and I can pass the message along to Bits.”

“Yeah, okay,” Jack said. It would have to be a quick visit. Alexei couldn’t take much time off from the team, and even if Jack wasn’t playing, he needed to be there. But a little break couldn’t hurt, and god Jack _missed_ him so much. Not being able to skype, not being able to tweet, was driving him up the wall. It was bad enough he was breaking rules going to the games, so he wasn’t going to take any chances making his head worse.

But he felt profoundly cut off from the one person he wanted to be close to, and he didn’t want to feel that way again.

Ringing off with Kent, Jack headed down to Alexei’s, and knocked on the door. It took a moment for the Falconer’s Captain to answer, but his face broke into a huge smile when he saw Jack. “Zimmbonni! Kenny say you come by. Something about roadtrip to visit my new best friend?”

Jack rolled his eyes, but walked in and started talking as Alexei closed the door. “I was thinking we could, since there’s only an early morning skate tomorrow. I mean, if you’re busy we can…”

“I’m love to go see Itty Bits,” Alexei said, dropping his hand to Jack’s shoulder. “We have fun trip, yes. Meet hockey friends?”

Jack raised a brow. “Did you and Kent already talk to Bitty about this?”

Alexei shrugged one shoulder. “Maybe Kenny mention. He play Cupids, see his Zimms happy.” Alexei squeezed Jack’s arm lightly, then punched him. “I’m thinking you will be happier if you going to see tiny boyfriend.”

Jack flushed. “I’m not…unhappy. Though you can tell Kent to stop trying so hard. Bitty and I will work out…whatever we work out.”

Alexei’s face went soft and he shook his head. “He only want to see you happy, Jack. I’m only want to see you happy. And your face so happy with baker Bitty.”

Jack bit his lip, but couldn’t chase back the smile, and he finally shrugged. “Yeah well. He’s not so bad, is he?”

Alexei chortled and shoved Jack toward the sofa. “No, is not so bad. Now you sit. I make some shashlyik for Kenny before he leave, I heat some up.”

Jack normally wouldn’t have bothered, but he certainly wasn’t going to pass up Alexei’s cuisine.

*** 

Bitty stared at his string of messages, his heart racing when he realised in just a few hours, Jack would be here. Again. In touching distance. In kissing distance. From the message status, it was clear Jack still hadn’t read what Bitty had left him on twitter which was both a good thing, and nerve-wracking. Bitty desperately wanted Jack to know that he was in this, that this was good and solid.

But he also wanted time to spend with Jack without some sort of expectation hanging over them. Especially with Jack still recovering from his injury.

He’d just gotten the confirmation text from Rans that their team was meeting for a practise that afternoon, and Bitty was welcome to come. Bitty conveniently didn’t mention that he was bringing two professional NHL players with him—one because he was a little shit who wanted to torture his friends with the surprise, and two—because it was Boston and the Bruins loyalty might make things somewhat awkward.

Though Bitty knew the guys were good, and apart from some chirping, they’d probably be over the moon to play with Mashkov and Zimmermann. Not that Jack would be playing, but him being there would be enough.

To distract himself, Bitty hurried through his morning routine, mixing up some pie crust as he did his vest treatment, then rushed through his g-tube feeding and gulped down his pills. He had a cherry pie finished, and a peach in the oven when his phone buzzed, and he swiped the screen open.

**Zimmbonni and I will be there in twenty minutes )))**

Bitty’s hands broke into a sudden, cold sweat, and he took a breath. It was stupid to be nervous. He’d spent an entire weekend cuddling with Jack, in his _bed_ , like they’d been together for years. And Jack’s name alone would be impressive enough to his friends so…

Then he realised he was worried that his own life wouldn’t be enough to draw Jack in. What if, as he was waiting for Bitty to make his decision, he changed his mind. What if all of what Bitty was, was just too much?

Bitty stopped himself. Now was not the time to overthink it. If Jack wasn’t interested, he wouldn’t have been on his way now to see him. The thought of that made Bitty smile, and he went into his bedroom to change. Skinny jeans, oversized sweater, and he threw on a couple of knitted leg-warmers for added warmth. He’s lost a few extra pounds recently, and was always cold. He shoved his hearing aids in, then pushed his beanie over his hair, and glanced at himself in the mirror.

Not the cutest he’d ever looked, but it was good enough. He bit his bottom lip, staring at his oxygen, but his reading was decent that morning, and being able to enjoy Jack without having to lug his oxygen pack around was a plus, and he promised himself he’d leave it on all evening if he could just have the afternoon.

He wandered back into the kitchen, just in time to take the pie out of the oven, then sat with his phone until he saw the lights flashing. Scrambling from his seat, he took three large breaths, then flung the door open.

He’d known Jack for a little while now, had spent all that time with him, but Bitty had to wonder if he would ever be prepared for the intensity it was to see Jack Zimmermann stood on his doorstep. He looked gorgeous as ever, hair perfect, jeans hugging his ass, his t-shirt stretched over his chest. But it wasn’t really that, Bitty realised. Not that it didn’t help, but it really was the way Jack looked at him. His ice-blue eyes fixated on Bitty with both wonder and affection, and that expression nearly stole Bitty’s already-fragile breath away.

“Hi,” he felt himself whisper.

Jack saluted his hello to Bitty, then opened his arm and Bitty walked into it immediately. It was warm and comforting, and Bitty squeezed as tight as he felt wouldn’t hurt Jack’s shoulder, before he pulled away.

Then Jack was shoved, and the big grin and wide brown eyes of Mashkov appeared, and he signed a little awkwardly, ‘No steal!’ before yanking Bitty into his own hug, so tight it lifted Bitty from the ground.

Giggling, Bitty pushed Tater away, then beckoned them inside with a, “Come in, y’all. I have pie, then we can go meet my friends if you’re up for it.”

Jack was a little slower than Tater who, like an excited puppy, bound into the kitchen and immediately started looking for utensils to cut. Jack hung back a little, staring at Bitty with a slight flush, and Bitty walked into him again, touching his waist.

“I missed you,” Bitty said.

Jack nodded, his mouth working, fingers twitching, but he didn’t say anything. He lifted his hand, careful and slow, to Bitty’s cheek and brushed the skin there with his thumb. Bitty’s entire body went hot, overwhelmed with a sort of desire that was more than just physical. He licked his lips and cupped his hand over Jack’s.

“You look real good today, Jack,” Bitty said.

Jack’s eyes went bright, and he drew his hand away to sign, ‘Thank you. You too.’

Bitty’s eyebrows raised. ‘Practice?’

Jack nodded his fist. ‘Hard one hand.’

Bitty giggled, then took Jack by the wrist, and boldly, kissed his knuckles. He could see the way Jack sucked in his breath, the way the tops of his cheekbones went pink, the way his pupils blew wide for a second. Bitty wished in that moment—as much as he loved Tater—that they were alone.

But there would be time for that when Jack was healed.

Bitty slotted their fingers together, then went into the kitchen and immediately began to chirp Tater for the massacre job he committed on the pie.

*** 

Jack attempted to pay attention to the conversation in the car, which was complicated enough by his lack of signing ability, and Tater’s driving, but it was even more difficult with Bitty’s hand on his shoulder. Especially when said hand kept wandering to the back of his neck, curling in the hair at his nape which he thought was getting too long. Until now. Until Bitty was twisting it round the tips of his fingers as he tapped a few texts out on his phone.

Jack tried to distract himself from it, but he caught Tater’s eye who was grinning too widely, and he sighed, giving in to the fact that yes, he was smitten. Beyond smitten. Instead of trying to remain a functional human for the drive, Jack leant back against Bitty’s touch, and the three of them eventually made it to the rink.

It was set up in a community centre, and the car park was fairly empty, so Jack assumed it was privately rented for whatever group needed it. It would make it easier for him and Tater, being that they weren’t in public.

Climbing out of Tater’s car, Jack helped Bitty with his bag, rewarded with Bitty going onto his toes and planting a kiss right on the edge of Jack’s jaw. “Thank you, darlin’.”

Jack flushed and signed, ‘Welcome,’ when he handed the bag over.

Jack had brought his skates, though he couldn’t play the game, and he would have to take it slow, but he’d already been cleared for mild exercise and he figured this counted. Tater had their things, and he watched as the giant Russian chattered away with his broken, exaggerated signs, all of which made Bitty laugh and cover his mouth to stifle the giggles.

Jack wanted to pull the hand away, to listen to every noise, to read every expression, because they were all perfect. He paused when Bitty stopped to cough into his elbow, and waved off Jack’s concern when Jack signed, ‘Ok?’

Eventually they headed in, and Bitty turned to them, speaking just over the loud laughter and shouting coming from the rink. “I didn’t tell them y’all were comin’. It’s a surprise so hang back and let me talk to them first?”

Jack nodded, and he and Tater kept to the side out of view as Bitty took his bag and wandered to the benches. The rink was smaller than the area’s but decently sized, and through the glass Jack could see the amateur team warming up. They had mismatched gear, and not enough padding, but Jack reminded himself this wasn’t a professional game.

There were two men which Jack had to assume were Bitty’s friends by the way they quickly started signing when they saw him. Both were big enough to be D-men, the taller of the two with dark skin, and a wide smile. The shorter had blonde hair, glasses, and Jack could see hearing aids glinting off the harsh, fluorescent lighting of the rink.

Their hands moved fast, Deaf Speed, Jack knew it was called. Bitty was leaning over the opening to the rink and his own fingers were flying.

“I’m never going to get that fast,” Jack muttered.

Tater clapped his shoulder. “You will. Is just matter of practise. Five years from now you so fast, not even remember what it was like now.”

Jack sighed, but he offered Tater a smile. He looked over at Bitty who was now pointing, and nodding his head for them to walk over. Jack steeled himself for the reaction, and he was not disappointed by it.

There was a sudden, profound silence, then a massive, cacophony of chirps from the team. They flung themselves all at the opening in an attempt to get there first. Tater, of course, was always better at the social stuff than Jack. Jack had long-since outgrown his Hockey Robot personality, but things like this still made him edgy.

He felt anxiety creeping up his spine until a sudden, warm hand pressed at the small of his back, and he looked over at Bitty who was smiling softly, holding him like a touchstone.

‘Hey,’ Bitty mouthed.

Jack felt his entire body go lax before he turned and was introduced all round. “Sorry I can’t play,” Jack told the one called Ransom who was digging through Bitty’s bag for promised cookies. “I can skate a bit, but I thought Tater might have fun.”

Ransom grinned up at him, looking sappy and ridiculous. “Tater,” he sighed, then shook his head. “Sorry man, I’m just a huge fan.”

Jack, who had his skates on with the help of both Bitty and Alexei, rose and steadied himself on the wall. He glanced out at the rink where Bitty was now zooming round everyone at a speed which startled him. “He’s…fast.”

Ransom glanced up, then laughed. “Who Bitty? Yeah, bro. He’s like…mad fast. He probably would’ve gone pro if his lungs’d let him.”

Jack felt a sudden, crushing weight in his gut, at how much of Bitty’s life had been decided for him, simply because of his disease. But he wasn’t going to let it get to him. Bitty was smiling and laughing, shooting both sign and verbal chirps at the team who occasionally tried to best him.

When Jack got on the ice, Bitty came to a stop, then held out his hand and Jack took it. They started lazy circles round the ice as the team set up with Tater, and they began a couple of four on fours.

“I don’t know if I’ve ever seen Rans or Holster this happy,” Bitty said as they slowed to watch Tater and Holster face off. Look at them.”

Jack laughed, pulling Bitty close. “Can you euh…understand me?”

Bitty, who was looking at his mouth, nodded. “I’m good, darlin’.” There was a loud whoop, and both of them glanced over as Tater had gotten the puck and immediately sank it, glove-side.

“UNFAIR ADVANTAGE! NHL ADVANTAGE!” Holster cried.

Everyone laughed, and Bitty shook his head. “Well. Mostly happy. They’re a little in love with him.”

“He’s taken. Kent would kill them,” Jack said.

Bitty giggled again and yanked Jack even closer, abandoning his hand to wrap round his waist. He pushed his face into the centre of Jack’s chest for a second, and Jack closed his eyes, just letting himself feel, letting himself bask in this.

“I missed you,” Bitty said, his face still pressed against Jack’s shirt.

Without Bitty looking at him, he couldn’t respond, so instead he clutched Bitty tighter, hoping the gesture was enough. When Bitty looked back up, his face was pink, and his mouth was curved into a helpless smile. Jack couldn’t stop himself. He let his fingers touch, tracing over the edge of Bitty’s lips.

God, he wanted him. He wanted to kiss him and hold him and never let go.

“I really wanna know what you’re thinking,” Bitty said. “But also…” He stopped and lifted his hands to sign, ‘I’m afraid.’

‘Don’t be afraid,’ Jack signed back.

Bitty hesitated, then took Jack’s hand, kissed it, then said, “Come on, let’s do some laps.”

*** 

The game didn’t go on too long, and after the team begged Jack, Tater, and Bitty to join them for lunch. Jack was feeling a little overwhelmed, and Bitty was looking a little weary, but Tater looked excited.

“Hey man, he can come with us,” Rans said, clapping Tater on the shoulder. “We can drop him by Bitty’s when we’re done.”

“You can drive my truck?” Tater asked.

Jack shrugged. “Yeah. I haven’t taken anything today.” He was passed the keys, then Jack took Bitty’s hand and they loaded up the gear, and headed back to Bitty’s.

Back inside, Bitty quickly went for a breathing treatment as Jack offered to scrounge up lunch, which turned into sandwiches with cherry pie on the side. Bitty grinned at him as he settled on the floor, and the pair ate in relative silence, just enjoying the comfort of each other.

A bit later, Jack caught himself yawning, and Bitty looked up. “Tater just said he and the guys are heading over to Rans’ for a while. You look beat. You wanna nap?”

‘Maybe,’ Jack signed with one hand. ‘You?’

Bitty nodded his fist, then stood, offering a hand up to Jack. It felt strange, but also very right. Their fingers fit together perfectly, even in spite of small Bitty’s were, and how much bigger Jack’s hand was. Their palms, warm and dry, pressed together and it was all Jack could feel as he was pulled back into Bitty’s room.

It was very him, Jack realised as he glanced round. Small bed, the walls decorated with everything from pinned up photos to Beyonce concert posters. His bookshelves were overflowing with novels, textbooks, and cookbooks. His laptop rested on a desk which was scattered with pill bottles, a nebuliser, oxygen tank, and stacks upon stacks of papers.

When Jack looked over at Bitty, he saw a faint blush bringing out the freckles on Bitty’s cheeks. Bitty was crouched low, pulling off the legwarmers and jeans. Jack tried not to stair as he started on his boxers and a t-shirt, and he felt a profound sense of comfort knowing there would be no expectation other than to hold Bitty, and to sleep a little. When he started to struggle, being one handed, Bitty laughed then quickly helped him out of his jeans and socks.

He waited for Bitty to take the lead, which he did. He pushed his covers back and scotched up against the wall, and waited for Jack to climb in. Reaching over Bitty plucked his oxygen from the desk, situating it near his feet, and pushed the tubes into his nose as Jack pulled the covers up to their waists.

Bitty hesitated, then pulled out his hearing aids. ‘Ok?’ he asked.

Jack laughed, then nodded as Bitty set them aside. There wasn’t much to say anyway. Jack just wanted this, to be near Bitty, to be able to touch him. Their hands met again, and Bitty curled into his side. A soft kiss was pressed to Jack’s ribs, and Jack let that gesture of sweet comfort, lull him to sleep.

*** 

Jack woke an hour later, sensing something was off. Bitty was no longer at his side, but dangling off the side of the bed staring at his phone. In the faint afternoon light, Jack could see a few tears rolling off Bitty’s nose, and he sat up a little too quickly. Pain seared through his shoulder, but he brushed it off in favour of reaching for Bitty who turned, almost startled.

He tried to smile, but his lips only twitched and then he cleared his throat loudly and said, “I just got the text. Jack I…they’ve got lungs for me. I…I have to go in. I’m getting new lungs.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kiiiind of a cliffhanger, but in my defence I update quickly so....
> 
> Also side-note, my partner had been waiting on lungs but he died before he was called for a transplant, so most of this is either coming from a few of my CF friends I met through him and their experiences (not everyone gets transplants, you have to be pretty serious to qualify), and from research on google.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will be a slightly longer wait for the next update--I have to get a couple of fest-fics written, but it shouldn't take longer than a week, if that. 
> 
> This chapter deals with surgery complications and dealing with the idea of mortality, so take caution if you're triggered by these things. As before, this fic has a happy ending so if you're worried about a "gotcha" moment, please take comfort in knowing I would never do that. This is Zimbits happily ever after endgame.

Jack walked in circles until a firm hand gripped his shoulder, and his eyes felt wide, wild as they stared at Shitty. “Man, bro, relax, okay?”

Jack’s laugh came, high and tight, full of tension and worry. “Relax? Shits, I…you can’t honestly be telling me to relax.”

“Well, you’re kind of freaking out right now.”

“Crisse, Shitty, un peu que je flippe!” He took a breath, dragging his fingers through his hair. When they caught on a tangle, he pulled hard, and the pain brought him back down. “Shitty, what if he…I mean this isn’t an easy surgery. This isn’t getting an appendix out.”

Shitty looked at Jack, then grabbed his hand and forced him down onto Bitty’s small sofa. He held Jack’s fingers tight, though he didn’t force Jack to keep eye contact. “Listen, you’re right. This isn’t an easy surgery, and Bitty’s body isn’t in top condition. He’s been declining pretty badly over the last few months. He might not make it.”

Jack felt like someone had doused him in icy water. “Shits…why…”

“I’m saying this, because me lying to you and pretending like this is no big deal isn’t going to help you. Everyone who gives a fuck about Bitty needs to be prepared. He could get through the surgery fine, and then his body could reject the lungs. He could get an infection. He could code on the operating table. Anything could happen. Bitty has a disease that’s going to claim his life one day and we need to understand that. But it’s not going to help him, brah, if we sit here and lose our minds over it. So we need to focus. We need to be prepared, but we need to focus.”

Jack had never heard Shitty so put together, so succinct before, and he suddenly realised Shitty was using his Lawyer Voice on him. He swallowed, and he pushed the fear back, and he nodded. “What can we do?”

Shitty smiled at him. “Lards is picking up Coach and Suzanne, so what we can do is grab a bunch of shit for Bitty to keep in the hospital with him. Shit that’ll make him feel comforted. Something to remind him he’s got a life here, people here, worth fighting for.”

Jack nodded. That was why they’d gone to Bitty’s in the first place. To get things like his pyjamas and his favourite books and his laptop. Things he’d want once he was able to sit up and start moving around again.

When Bitty had gotten the page for the lungs, everything happened so fast. He’d been cuddling with Jack one minute, enjoying a nap and waiting for Tater to get back with Rans and Holster, and the next minute Jack was racing him to the hospital because the lungs were ready now, and Bitty needed to be prepped.

It was nothing like the medical dramas Jack had seen on TV, but it was also just as chaotic. Bitty was admitted and there was an interpreter there to help with Bitty so Jack busied himself by making the phone calls Bitty couldn’t make. Lardo and Shits showed up next, then suddenly Bitty was being whisked away for his pre-op procedures and Jack was left in the lobby with Shitty at his elbow and a kiss lingering on his lips.

Jack tried not to think about how it could very well have been his last kiss with Bitty ever. That these moments were just borrowed time and the next time Jack saw Bitty he would be…

He breathed, and closed his eyes, and calmed himself. There was no sense in getting lost in what-ifs. He needed to focus on what was. They made their way to Bitty’s room, and Jack flicked on the light. There were pills everywhere still, bottles and bottles of them. There were machines by the bed, spare oxygen and Bitty’s vest, and his nebuliser. Jack’s fingers brushed up against the vest machine, and he turned to Shitty.

“He’s never going to need this again, is he? One way or the other.”

Shitty’s eyes were bright, and he shook his head. “No man, he’s not.” He bit his lip, then began looking round. “Okay we definitely need Señor Bun.”

Jack blinked. “Euh…qu’est-ce c’est?” Shitty stared at him, and Jack clarified, “What is that? Señor Bun?”

Shitty laughed. “I guess I’m not totally surprised he didn’t introduce the little dude but…” Shitty started rummaging round, and eventually sat up from under the bed with an a-ha, and a small, stuffed, well-worn bunny in his hands. “This is Señor Bun, and Bitty almost never sleeps without it.”

“He…” Jack stared, feeling a warmth and an ache in the centre of his chest because Bitty never ceased to be adorable and wonderful and marde Jack just wanted to be able to kiss him one more time. He swore to a god he didn’t even really believe in that he would donate his entire salary to charity if he could just have a little more time. “He didn’t have that when he was at mine,” Jack finally managed.

Shitty laughed as he pushed the bunny into Jack’s hand. “Yeah he probably did. He takes it everywhere. Just hid it.”

Jack tucked the bun into the crook of his injured elbow, then brushed his fingers along one of the velvet-soft ears. “Salut,” Jack whispered, stupidly because he thought maybe there was some connection to Bitty with this damn stuffie. Maybe right now wherever Bitty’s consciousness was, it was aware of Jack just…holding what he could, that belonged to the man he was falling in love with.

But down to business, because Jack was going to wallow if he wasn’t careful. He cleared his throat and asked, “What else?”

After that, Shitty gave careful directions and together they managed to gather up Bitty’s things. His favourite pyjamas, his laptop, spare chargers for phone and computer. A few books which Jack thought they might enjoy together, and Jack slung it all on his good shoulder as they headed out.

Bitty’s surgery wasn’t near done. It was going to take hours, and then there would be Bitty’s recovery and there was no telling when Jack would be able to see him again. Shitty drove to the hospital in silence, and the pair went down to the waiting room to sit, and do their damndest not to watch the clock.

Six hours, and they had four to go.

Six, if there were no complications, if there were no issues. If Bitty didn’t…

*** 

Two hours to go. The Bittles arrived shortly before the doctor came out to give a progress update. Jack’s ears were buzzing so he caught a few words like, “unexpected complications,” and “back on the right track,” and though Coach and Suzanne looked worried, neither of them were falling apart so Jack let himself relax.

He was dozing by the time it was over. The doctor came in, looking grim but not like he was about to tell Jack his entire world had been destroyed. 

“We have his lungs functioning well right now,” he said. “He’ll be on the ventilator until his lungs can function at at least eighty percent, so we’ll be checking that progress, but expect him to be there for at least the next few days, if not longer. With his complications…”

“What um,” Jack said, and everyone looked at him. “I’m sorry I’m just…I missed it. What complications?”

“He flatlined a few times,” the doctor said dryly. “His heart has an infection we weren’t anticipating, something that was missed during his last stay.”

Jack felt his face go numb, but he held on. “And that…ah it…means?”

“He’s on heavy anti-biotics for it, and should recover no problem. Something he’ll need to discuss with his specialists later, but for now it’s not something he needs to focus on.”

“When can we see him?” Suzanne asked.

“He won’t be conscious for some time,” the doctor said, and we’ll need to take every precaution so any chance of exposure to infections will need to be prevented. But I’d say in a few hours it should be alright.”

Bitty’s parents nodded, and when the doctor was gone, Suzanne sank into the chair and put her hands over her face. Jack felt frozen to the spot, not sure what to say or do. Bitty had…his heart had… He couldn’t bring himself to think it. He’d known Bitty such a short time and he knew his grief wouldn’t have compared to what Bitty’s parents were going through.

It wasn’t until he felt a hand on his arm and looked up at Bitty’s dad that Jack came back to himself. “I could really use a coffee, son. You want to join me?”

Jack looked at Shitty and Lardo who were sat with Suzanne, and Shitty waved him off. “Sure, that would probably be a good idea.”

It felt strange, but in a way Eric Bittle Sr wasn’t really a stranger anymore. It felt like with moments like these, it was impossible to say you didn’t know someone. Coach gave Jack’s shoulder a pat when they got to the small café, and he ordered them two cups of coffee.

Instead of heading back, Coach gestured to a small booth, and Jack sank down. He was still only half together, his anxiety being held back by his sheer force of will and knowing he had an emergency Xanax if it got to be too much.

“You get much sleep, son?”

Jack shook his head. “No ah. When Bitty got the call we were just getting up from a nap, but that was the last time I euh…” He trailed off and shrugged.

“Dicky’s told us some about you,” Coach said slowly. “Mind, not a lot, but he’s always been a private person. Growin’ up the way he did wasn’t easy, you know. Had a lot working against him.”

Jack nodded, and he got that. In a different way but it was something he could understand. “Ouias,” he muttered.

Coach sighed, then poked at the plastic lid over his coffee. “When Dicky was born, Suzanne and I had to come to terms with the idea that we were going to have to bury our son. That’s something no parent wants to face, but for us it was inevitable. Our whole lives it feels like we’ve just been doing what we can to delay the timeline, and Dicky well…he’s a fighter. He doesn’t give up easy.”

“No, sir,” Jack all-but whispered.

“Only a fool wouldn’t see how much you care about him, and I guess I just wanted to say thanks. I know I didn’t always do right by that boy. We didn’t see eye-to-eye on a lot. He suffered because of it. I should’ve tried harder with sign language and…and understandin’ who he was. But I am…grateful for you.”

Jack blinked, startled by the confession. “I care a great deal,” he said, not sure what other words to use. “I haven’t known him long, and my schedule with my team isn’t as forgiving as most. But in a way this injury is a blessing because I can at least be there for him during his recovery.” Jack picked at the edge of his sling, then looked up at Coach who was watching him with a thoughtful expression.

“We oughta get back. The second they let us through, I wanna check on that boy.”

Jack nodded. “I can wait, euh…until he can have more than family. But I want to wait here.”

“You’ll get your chance. I don’t think Dicky’d forgive me if he didn’t at least get a kiss hello.” Coach clapped him on the arm, and the two of them made their way back to the waiting room.

*** 

It was three hours before Jack was allowed to go back. Bitty’s vitals were up and down, but he eventually stabilised and was awake enough to communicate with his parents, and after half an hour, Suzanne and Coach came into the lobby.

“He’s pretty out of it, but he wants to see you,” Suzanne said.

Jack nodded, feeling numb again. He had Señor Bun in his hand, and he wandered to the double doors, picking up the phone to call the nurse’s station, and was buzzed back. It felt like he was walking outside of his body, in a way. He wasn’t sure he was prepared to see Bitty like this—on machines to sustain him, the threat not over.

Jack had seen hundreds of injuries of varying degrees during his career but this…he was so unprepared. His head was throbbing and part of him wanted to run and hide until he knew for sure Bitty was out of the woods. But he knew he couldn’t do that. He was better than that.

His hand paused on the door, then he pushed inside and took the mask by the door, struggling to get it over his ears with one hand, but managed it. Bitty was alone in the room, looking small in the massive bed, with the machines all around him.

Bitty’s face was half-obscured by the vent which was attached to his mouth, and his eyes were closed. Jack couldn’t begin to process what he was seeing, so he just reminded himself this wasn’t forever, and it was Bitty, and it was okay.

Walking to the side of the bed, Jack put his hand over Bitty’s. His fingers were cold, but they twitched when Jack touched him, and his eyes slid open. The corners of his mouth turned up as Jack held up Señor Bun.

Setting the bun next to Bitty’s hand, he smiled when Bitty’s fingers curled round the leg. ‘Sorry,’ Jack signed, circling his fist over his chest.

Bitty’s hand lifted just barely, and it took Jack several minutes to work it out, what Bitty was spelling. ‘HOW YOU?’

Jack laughed a little, shaking his head, then put up all five fingers, tapping his thumb to his chest. He hated he had such little of the sign lexicon, but he remembered his alphabet and quickly spelt out, ‘STAY HERE WITH YOU.’

‘SLEEP YOU,’ Bitty spelt back. ‘ME OK.’

Jack sighed, stepping closer, and he brushed his fingers back through Bitty’s hair until the dark eyes began to drift closed again. Jack continued until he was certain Bitty was asleep, until he was certain those machines would not start wailing to inform him that even after all this, it was too late.

He stayed as long as he could, until the nurses came to check on him. Jack departed with a kiss to Bitty’s forehead which didn’t wake him. He left Señor Bun, and a promise that he would come back and stay as long as he could, for as long as Bitty wanted him.

*** 

The Bittles promised to call Jack should anything happen, and Jack quickly put Suzanne’s number on his priority alert, so it would ring through whether or not Jack had silenced his phone. He hated only having the use of one arm on the drive back to his own place, and the moment he got inside, he rang Kent.

“Hey man,” Kent breathed. “Shit, fuck. Tell me it’s okay. I’ve been waiting all fucking day.”

“Sorry,” Jack murmured. “Sorry I…I wasn’t thinking.”

“No I’m not,” Kent said with a growl. “I’m not mad, just worried. Tates didn’t hear from you either so we weren’t sure if something…you know…”

“He had a struggle. His heart stopped briefly but he’s okay now,” Jack said, deciding lying about anything would be pointless. He dropped to the sofa, pulling the soft afghan around him, and he breathed out. “Kenny, I don’t know if I can do this. He looked so small, so fragile. I can’t…I feel so much. I can’t lose him.”

“I’m sorry, Zimms,” Kent said, because it was the only thing to say.

Jack swallowed thickly. “I’m not leaving. I’m not going anywhere. But I don’t think I’m as strong as Bitty needs me to be.”

“Give yourself some credit,” Kent said. “You’re better than you think.” After a pause he asked, “Can you sleep? You wanna cuddle with my man tonight?”

That got a small laugh out of Jack. “I’m alright. I’m probably going to pass out soon. Bitty’s parents promised to call if there were any changes and I’ll see him in the morning. Can you…if you have a lull in games will you…?”

“First free weekend, I’m there,” Kent assured him. “I already booked my ticket. Don’t freak out, okay. You got this.”

“Yeah.”

They talked a few more minutes before Jack’s eyes got heavy, and he promised to text Kent in the morning. When the call ended, Jack stared at his blank phone screen, then decided fuck it. It was against orders, but he needed something right now. He needed to be reminded of what they had. He just wanted to look back at their conversations, to remind himself of what he was going to get back, the moment he was recovered.

Jack was not expecting a new message in his DM box. His eyes watered too fast for him to read it all, but eventually he got through it, and only a few tears escaped.

It felt stupid replying, knowing that Bitty was not far, knowing that Jack would see him soon and could just…just tell him everything. But it was a connection to Bitty he had right then, and he found his fingers flying across the screen.

**@jayzimmsNHL- This has been the most hellish day of my life. Technically, Bits, you died. Your heart stopped, and there was a moment where the world was bleaker and colder without you in it. Seconds, probably, but crisse I don’t want there to ever be another. And I know what you’re facing, I’m not saying I don’t. I am saying I want this. I am saying that it’s only been a handful of weeks and we’ve now faced my injury and your surgery and there’s so much more to come—and I’m falling in love with you. Maybe that’s … too fast or maybe it’s too much but it feels right to say it. Because I don’t think I could live with myself if you didn’t know. I’m going to see you in the morning, and every morning I can manage for the rest of the time we have together. I think you’ll recover. I think you’ll be alright. And my arm will heal and I’ll learn to sign and eventually I’ll take you skating. But for now, rest. And know that whenever you wake up, I’ll be there.**


	9. Interlude

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this isn't really a chapter so much as like a fluff interlude since everything has been shite and sad. I've basically spent the entire day in bed crying and wondering what it's going to mean for me living in the States, and having no control and no way to help. So I thought at least some Zimbits fluff would cheer me (and hopefully everyone) up.
> 
> This fic has like two more chapters left, and I'm hoping to get those sorted very soon, along with my two patater fics. Then...I'll start something else, I'm sure. But for now, enjoy the sweet, tooth-rotting fluff.

Jack couldn’t get through the shoot fast enough. His entire body felt like it was vibrating with desire to finish up and leave. He knew his answers to the interview sounded rushed, and he knew he owed Snowy a thousand favours for picking up the slack and moving it along.

Jack didn’t bother to scrub the muck off his face from the photos, or change out of the uncomfortable suit he was in. He gave a cursory wave to Tater, promising to text him, then bolted to his car and tore out onto the main street.

It had been exactly three weeks since Bitty’s surgery. Three weeks of ups and downs. Bitty showed early signs of rejection, which had set everyone on edge, but the meds started taking effect. The infection in his body cleared up, and he was off the vent.

In fact, today was the first day Jack would be able to see him out of the ICU and in a proper recovery room. Jack had done his best to keep up with his work obligations. He was finally out of his sling, though he wasn’t back on the ice yet. He was studying almost daily with Natasha, the ASL tutor, and when he wasn’t at the hospital keeping up his conversations with Bitty, he was practising with Tater and the guys—almost all of whom had decided to take up the opportunity to learn to sign.

Things had sort of snowballed when Bitty read Jack’s message. Jack had showed up at the hospital and even though Bitty was still only partially conscious, and still vented, Jack knew it was all or nothing. It was ride or die—as Shitty would say.

Jack hadn’t officially asked Bitty to be his boyfriend yet. He wanted to wait until Bitty was feeling more like himself, and today, he decided, was going to be that day. He would celebrate Bitty’s step up from the ICU, and step into having a healthier, more comfortable life, by taking the next step with their relationship.

And logically Jack knew Bitty was going to say yes. He had a ridiculous gesture planned with a little lego toy of himself, but he couldn’t help his nerves. His anxiety over the past few weeks led Jack to upping his dosage again, which was helping, but not enough. At least not today.

Still, not even God himself could have kept Jack away, and he made the drive in less than thirty minutes. It was by some miracle he hadn’t gotten a speeding ticket, and by some miracle he hadn’t crashed when he finally pulled into a parking space.

He had the lego in his pocket, feeling a bit ridiculous in his suit though with his anticipation, he really didn’t notice it much. He stopped by the welcome desk to see if he needed a visitor badge, but since Bitty was in recovery now, he was just given the room number and told to go up.

Jack was fidgeting in the lift, and the doors opened, bringing with it a wave of anaesthetic smell and strangely enough it was starting to feel like home. Mostly, he thought, because it meant Bitty was there.

As he approached the room, he closed his eyes and wasn’t sure if he wanted to hope that someone was in there with Bitty, or that Bitty was alone—because he wanted to have that moment with him, but the thought of him being lonely all day…

“Get your cute hockey butt in here,” came a voice Jack was still far too excited to hear. Bitty had been off the vent for five days now but his voice was still scratchy and hoarse. “I can see your shadow in the doorway.”

When no other voices chirped at him, Jack hurried in, closing the door behind him. He pushed the privacy curtain which hung near the door back, and found Bitty sat up in his bed, cross-legged, wearing his own pyjamas and holding Señor Bun on his lap.

Jack’s heart thudded against his ribs and he crossed the room quickly, taking Bitty’s cheek in one hand, and brushing their lips together. When he pulled back he mouthed, ‘Hi,’ at him.

Bitty chuckled, then reached up and flicked his hearing aids with the back of his nail. “Got my ears on, sweetheart. If you want.”

Jack shook his head and stepped back to give himself signing space. ‘Need to practise.’

Bitty shrugged, winking. ‘You look handsome. How was the…’ Jack wasn’t sure about the word Bitty signed, but he assumed it was photoshoot.

‘Fine. Long.’

Bitty made grabby hands at him, and when Jack stepped closer, Bitty yanked him by the wrist, then grabbed his right hand which, Jack realised, still bore his Stanley Cup ring. He never wore it, but he and the other guys were asked to for the photos, and he hadn’t thought to get rid of it before coming over.

He sat on the edge of Bitty’s bed and pulled it from his finger, then slipped it onto Bitty’s middle one. It was absurdly huge, immediately falling to the side, and Bitty giggled as he twisted it, then pulled it off and shoved it onto the arm of Señor Bun.

He looked at Jack and waggled his brows, making Jack laugh. ‘Nice.’ 

Bitty shrugged and picked up Señor Bun, holding him up against the light. “Suits him.”

Jack chuckled again, then brushed his hand through Bitty’s hair and leant in for yet another kiss. None of them were deep. Bitty was still recovering and they weren’t allowed to get too physical, but the soft, pecking dance their lips did together was enough to send Jack’s head into a spin.

He was falling so hard, and so fast, he was having trouble containing it.

“Got your heart eyes on again, sweetheart,” Bitty whispered to him, both his hands fisted in Jack’s shirt.

Jack sat back, then dug into his pocket. With one hand he signed awkwardly, ‘Something for you.’ He pulled the lego box out, and presented it. Bitty took it, his eyes wide.

‘It’s you,’ he signed, grinning so wide it threatened to split his face. ‘You have a LEGO!’

Jack shrugged, blushing. ‘I want to ask you,’ he signed very slowly, trying to get every single one right, ‘will you be my boyfriend?’

Bitty blinked at him, then laughed, then threw his arms round Jack and whispered, “Yes, sweetheart. Yes, of course I will.”

Jack held tight, hard, not wanting to let go. He kept the fear at bay, of losing Bitty, of things going wrong. Because he had this now, and it was beautiful, and it was enough.

*** 

An hour later, Jack and Bitty squeezed together on the bed to watch the TV. Jack was dozing lightly, Bitty’s half-eaten tray of food on the rolling table beside him. He’d had his vitals done, and more blood drawn. His labs were okay, not great, but without having to worry about his lungs now, Bitty could focus on the health of other things. His liver was suffering now, and his pancreas, but not out of control just yet, and the chances of getting a liver donor if he needed it were much higher than the lungs. Meaning if things went wrong again, Bitty wouldn’t have to worry as much.

Turning his head to the side, Bitty allowed himself a few moments to stare at Jack. He was gorgeous all the time, but in his sleep was the only time Jack was completely unguarded. Even in the safety of Bitty’s arms, he had the small wrinkle of worry between his brows. In his sleep, his face was smooth, looking as young as it should be, without the weight of the world and hockey, and his past.

Breathing in, Bitty dragged his fingers through the hair at Jack’s temple, then down his jaw. Jack shifted, and Bitty felt the vibrations of a mumble under his fingers, but Jack’ didn’t wake. Bitty felt a rush of love and affection for him, the feeling growing when he looked over and saw the small figurine of Jack next to Señor Bun.

He almost laughed. It was the most Jack thing he’d ever done. The formal asking that way. Bitty had been thinking of Jack as his since the moment he sent his tweet. And when he woke one day feeling groggy and awful, but more alert than he had since the surgery, he read Jack’s response and knew this was it. End game.

Bitty wasn’t going to live as long as Jack, but the years he did have he knew would be fuller than he ever imagined possible.

Reaching over, Bitty grabbed Señor Bun from the table, and twisted the heavy ring on the bunny’s arm. It had been interesting to see Jack come in like that. He was dressed in a designer suit, wearing his ring, looking like…well like someone Bitty didn’t think would ever be interested in some poorly, YouTube vlogger and baker. He looked like he belonged on the cover of GQ, not dozing in Bitty’s hospital bed.

And yet. Here he was.

Bitty startled when he felt a tapping on his wrist, and he looked over to see wide blues staring at him, the quirk of a smile on full lips. ‘What are you thinking?’ Jack signed.

Bitty made an o with his fingers, shaking it under his chin and flinging them outward. ‘Nothing.’ Then he pointed at Jack with a shrug. ‘You.’

Bitty delighted in the faint blush colouring Jack’s pale cheeks, and he couldn’t help but reach over, brushing the back of his knuckle over the warmed skin. When he pulled back Jack asked, ‘Good things?’

‘The best things,’ Bitty clarified.

Jack’s tiny grin bloomed into a full smile, and he grabbed at Bitty, yanking him gently but firmly and Señor Bun up close. Bitty smiled at the feeling of Jack’s lips against the back of his neck. He was close enough to hear the soft humming sound as Jack nosed through the shorn hair at the nape of his neck. He closed his eyes and lost himself in the feeling of Jack’s big, warm hands brushing along his newly-healing ribs, always so careful, so easy with him.

Bitty felt overwhelmed with love.

Jack hooked his chin on Bitty’s shoulder, and his hand moved to twist the ring round Señor Bun’s arm. “He should keep it,” Jack murmured up against Bitty’s ear. “He would take care of it.”

Bitty couldn’t contain himself, couldn’t stop himself. He gently placed Señor Bun to the side of the bed, then gingerly shifted until he and Jack were face to face. He reached up with both hands, his thin fingers cupping Jack’s cheeks, thumbs brushing just along his nose.

Bitty’s head dipped in and the words were hovering on his tongue, his heart between his teeth as he kissed Jack, a little deep, a little more than he was supposed to, but he didn’t care. When he pulled back, he took a breath, then lifted one hand up. He curled his middle and ring-finger into his palm.

Jack stared at it, his eyes wide, then he looked at Bitty with disbelief apparent in his face. His fingers twitched, like he wanted to respond, but he was frozen. He lifted a hand, careful as it had ever been, and cupped Bitty’s jaw. Their lips met halfway, Bitty closing his eyes and losing himself in the feel of it. Jack clung to him, tight and fierce, but just as delicate as he’d ever been.

When they broke apart, Jack was murmuring, and Bitty tipped his head in to listen. “Je t’aime. Je t’adore, chéri. I love you, I love you.” Bitty couldn’t help the smile as he pulled back, and watched as Jack lifted his hand, echoing the sign back to Bitty.

Bitty curled his hand over it, bringing it in to kiss the backs of Jack’s knuckles, then let himself fall against Jack’s chest carefully. His eyes closed, and he knew this was it. It really was. This was his forever. He breathed deep and slow, and with Jack’s hand in his hair, he was lulled to sleep.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp, this is the end. It's a little smaller than previous chapters, but I realised I didn't have much more story to tell, so think of this as like an epilogue. What happens in the future? Well let's just assume they live happily ever after. Because that's the only reality I can handle in any OMGCP universe. 
> 
> Thank you for all the amazing comments on this fic. I'm really glad everyone liked it so much. I'll be writing my NHL Jack/Baker Bitty AU soon, and finishing up my patater fics. If you wanna send prompts, don't hesitate to stop by my tumblr ask box (link at the bottom) and I'll see what I can do. xx

Scrolling through the history of his twitter, Bitty found himself pressing his smile into the pillow. From the first tweet from Jack, to the very last message he’d received.

**@jayzimmsNHL- @omgbittybakes: doubt they’ll be good as urs but I’ll give it a try. #omgcupcakes**

**@jayzimmsNHL- I’m on my way. I miss you.**

Bitty felt the bed shift behind him. A warm arm snaked round his waist, hitching him close. A nose pressed into the back of his neck, and he felt the vibrations from a sleepy murmur. Jack wasn’t awake, he knew, but he was attuned to Bitty’s presence like they’d been together for years instead of months.

Tomorrow Jack was playing for the cup. Tomorrow Jack would face off with the Rangers on his healed shoulder, for the final game in the playoffs. Jack had a ring already, and his name on the Stanley Cup. Both teams were playing fiercely, and the game would determine who was going to take it home.

Bitty had watched old games, had seen Jack intense, even with his win it had seemed he wasn’t as happy as he might have been. Now Bitty thought, even if Jack didn’t take the cup home, he might still have a smile. He might still be proud of his progress.

He wasn’t easy to get along with during the playoffs. He’d warned Bitty, and Bitty had taken him seriously. But he never slacked-off with his signing tutor—they were almost exclusively voice-off now when Bitty was with him, and when Jack’s attitude got out of hand, he was quick to apologise.

Bitty was distracted enough during this season. His recovery went well, but not without set-backs. He could breathe on his own, without the constant treatments, without the vests or the nebuliser, or the oxygen. It was an adjustment, and he lived in constant fear that one day his body would just stop accepting his new lungs.

His digestive system took a hit, and the infection spread to his heart which led to all of December spent in hospital. Jack spent the last two nights of Hanukkah with him there. They lit electric candles, Jack taught him the prayer, and Bitty turned up his hearing aids all the way so he could hear Jack’s soft voice singing in Hebrew.

‘Bilingual,’ Bitty signed, then spelt the word because Jack hadn’t learnt that one yet. 

Jack laughed. ‘I only know a little HEBREW. The French though…”

‘QUEBECOIS,’ Bitty chirped, and Jack had laughed, tackling him back to the bed—gently, minding all his tubes and IV—and kissed him slow and soft and sweet.

At the end of December, Bitty was released, and went home with his mother to watch Jack’s games on TV. They were on a roadie which left Bitty with short skype conversations and text messages. But Jack did what he could to make sure Bitty knew he hadn’t been forgotten.

Dawn was cresting over the horizon. Bitty could see the sky going lighter through the space in Jack’s curtains. Later, Jack would get up and go for a run, he would eat his pre-game breakfast, shower, dress, then head to meet the team. Bitty would hang back until Rans and Holster arrived. They’d meet up with Shitty and Lardo, sit in the family section, and cheer Jack on for this game as loud as they could.

But now. For now. Jack was his.

Bitty slid his phone onto the nightstand and twisted in Jack’s arm. Jack was asleep would remain so until his alarm went off. When Bitty first slept over as Jack’s official boyfriend, he played a game, trying to see what would get Jack up. Jack was responsive to kisses, fingers in his hair, tickles behind the ear, but he didn’t wake until his phone began to chime.

So Bitty knew he didn’t have to worry now. He could lay here and appreciate the wonder that was Jack Zimmerman, and the wonder that was falling so damn hard, and so damn fast for this man. He brushed the back of his knuckles along Jack’s sharp cheekbone, smiling when Jack let out a puff of hair, and nuzzled in closer.

Bitty wrapped his arms tight round Jack, shuffling downward until he could press the side of his face against Jack’s chest. If he pressed hard enough, he could feel the gentle, slow, thrumming beat of Jack’s heart. He loved him. He loved him so damn much. He wanted this, needed this. He didn’t know what he’d done to get so lucky. Maybe, for all the shit the Universe had sent his way since the day he was born, maybe it was finally trying to make up for it.

 _Let me have this. Let me have a life as long as I can, with him,_ Bitty begged quietly into the soft light of the morning.

Bitty only knew the alarm was going off when he felt warm lips pressing kisses along his forehead, over his temple, a nibble on his earlobe. A hand snaking between them, Bitty’s head turning up, and a warm mouth capturing his own.

*** 

Bitty had been to games before, but this…the energy, the intense spirit. He was behind the glass where the team was sat, and Bitty was wedged between Shitty, and Bad Bob Zimmermann. He hadn’t realised Jack’s parents were coming—Jack assumed Bitty had just known they’d be there, and Bitty hadn’t even really thought about the fact that Jack’s father was a Hockey Legend, and his nerves shot from about a ten to a hundred when he saw the smiling face of a man Jack was sure to look like in thirty years.

To Bitty’s utmost and extreme surprise, Bob raised his hands and signed, ‘Hi! Nice to meet you.’

Bitty stared, then remembered his manners because he was a good, southern boy, and quickly returned the greeting.

Bob laughed and signed, ‘Sorry, I’m learning. Only 2 weeks along.’

Bitty waved his hand dismissively and leant in. “It’s no worries, Mr uh…Bad Bob uh…Bad…Mr… Jack’s dad.”

Bob chuckled and squeezed Bitty’s shoulder before spelling, ‘BOB. JUST BOB.’

Bitty laughed, and felt his shoulders unclench. He met Alicia shortly after, and Shitty quickly leapt in to function as terp, though Bob and Alicia both insisted on signing as much as they could. Bitty felt warm, he realised Jack had talked about him, told his parents about him. Whatever reservations Bitty might have been holding in the recesses of his mind, they were gone.

He didn’t have much time to dwell on it, of course. The press were everywhere, Bitty’s face appearing on the jumbotron more than not thanks to his proximity to Bob—who at one point was snatched away for guest commentating. Bitty missed the presence until the teams took the ice. Just as Jack skated by, stopping to wave and wink in Bitty’s direction, a new face filled Bob’s seat, and Bitty turned to see Kent.

‘What’s up?’ Kent signed.

Bitty grinned and elbowed Kent. ‘When did you get here?’

‘Hour ago. Took me forever to get a cab. Thought I was going to miss it.’

When Bitty learnt that not only half the Falconers, but also Kent, had hired on ASL tutors, he wasn’t sure what to do with the information. Half of him wanted to tell Jack not to bother—there was a chance he wasn’t going to live long enough for it to matter, anyway. But the bigger part of him wanted it, desperately. Bitty had spent most of his life struggling to fit in a hearing world, and suddenly multi-millionaire, professional athletes were following his vlog, following him on twitter, and learning his language.

When he’d brought it up to Kent, Kent just rolled his eyes and elbowed him. ‘We learnt Russian for Tater. You think we won’t learn this for you?’

Bitty flushed, and didn’t know how to respond to that, so he just said nothing at all.

He was grateful to see Kent there. It was nice having Shitty and Lardo, but Kent more than anything understood the pressure the game was taking on his significant other. Tater handled the pressure better than Jack, but it was obvious he was feeling it. The few times Bitty had seen Tater in the corridors or at practise, his eyes looked dimmer, his smile was tighter.

Bitty made sure to ply them all with baked goods, as often as he could manage it, but really, they just needed to get through tonight. Whatever would happen would happen. They would win or lose, and then Bitty would have the rest of the summer with Jack.

It made all the pain, all the surgery, all the recovery, completely worth it.

Lights flashed, and then dimmed. The game was going to begin shortly, and Bitty realised that his heart was in his throat.

*** 

Jack had long-since learnt to deal with playoff nerves. He’d already won a cup, and losing would be disappointing, but it had ceased to be the most important thing. The most important things were sitting in the stands, watching him as they started their pre-game warm-ups.

The most important things were smiling and waving—Shitty jumping up on his seat, Lardo rolling her eyes, his mother winking, Kent flirting with Tater across the ice.

And Bitty.

Eric Bittle. Who was staring. And smiling. And blushing.

Eric Bittle, who was holding up a hand, curling his middle and ring finger into his palm to sign, ‘I love you.’

Through his gloves, Jack did the sign as best as he could, then pressed his padded fingers to his lips, then out to Eric. Then he reached his team. He saw the look Tater was giving him, but he puffed out his chest and gave them the best pep-talk he could manage.

The game after that, was absolute madness.

Sixty seconds on the clock, and they were tied. The Bruins had their reserve goalie out, and everyone was exhausted. Jack couldn’t seem to keep the puck, and his collarbone break—though healed—was aching fiercely. But he looked over and saw Bitty in the stands, clinging to his father’s arm, watching with his wide dark eyes.

And it didn’t matter if he won, but he still sent the prayer up anyway. ‘Let me get this. For him.’

It was a wild, slap-shot. It probably shouldn’t have gone in. He’d hit it glove-side, and the guy had been stopping shots for the last nineteen minutes.

Only somehow—and maybe it was a miracle, and maybe it wasn’t—it sailed in.

The screams were overwhelming. He could feel them in his chest. He was tackled to the boards, then onto the ice. Tater was hugging Snowy, sobbing. There was still twenty seconds on the clock, but it didn’t matter. Tater took the face-off, got the puck to Jack, and he ran the clock out.

Everything felt surreal after that. They shook the Bruins’ hands, and then the next thing Jack knew, he had strong, small arms around him. Big, dark eyes staring, and he lifted Bitty by the waist with his sweaty hands, Bitty’s feet perching on his skates, and he pushed Bitty against the boards and kissed him and kissed him and kissed him.

Camera flashes were everywhere, people were singing, and crying, and cheering, and Jack swore nothing could compare to this. It wasn’t the feeling of winning, it was the feeling of this. When Bitty’s hand curled into a fist in his jersey over his heart, and used his other hand to drag Jack in, and he whispered with that sweet, southern drawl right in Jack’s ear, “Je t’aime,” Jack knew it was all over for him.

He pulled back, curling his middle and ring finger into his palm. ‘I love you,’ he mouthed along with it. ‘I love you. Forever.’

Bitty was laughing and surging up to kiss Jack again.

Who knew what the future would hold—and really it didn’t matter. So long as he had this. So long as it was Jack and Bitty, and looking into those dark, imploring eyes, Jack was certain that whatever miracles there were in life, they belonged to them both.

**Author's Note:**

> follow me on tumblr [omgittybits](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/omgittybits)


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